


Bittersweet Omens

by IgneousFrizzle, late for armageddon (vaulttec)



Series: Bittersweet Omens AU [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 100k, 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Archangels, Aziraphale has a demon name and it's weird, Biblical events, Good Omens AU, Good Omens Reverse AU, Good Omens Role Reversal AU, Illustrations, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Original Iteration of Angel Crowley (Jahaziel), Reverse Omens, Role Reversal, Role Reversal AU, Wordcount: Over 100.000, but not quite that many
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 100,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22118260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgneousFrizzle/pseuds/IgneousFrizzle, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaulttec/pseuds/late%20for%20armageddon
Summary: What is the cost of lies between the ageless? With eternity at stake, a wily angel and a cunning demon pay the toll for what's right and what's wrong. And come to face the harsh reality that truly, no good deed goes unpunished.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Demon Aziraphale and Angel Crowley
Series: Bittersweet Omens AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591561
Comments: 78
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello darlings! we very much hope you enjoy our role-reversal AU that has been quite a few months in the making. i don't think either of us expected it to turn into what it has, but we are SO excited to unleash this to the world. we hope you enjoy it! comments are absolutely adored, and if you'd like to reach out to us please feel free to find us on tumblr @bittersweetomens where character refs and notes can be found!! we will also be tracking the #bittersweetomens tag :)
> 
> thank you so much!!
> 
> (the cover art at the beginning of chapter 2 is by the amazingly wonderful @ambrillon on tumblr!!)

Like any good story, it began in a garden.

Not just _any_ garden. _The_ garden, specifically Eden. Two angels were standing atop a massive wall, watching over the occupants of said garden and chatting with one another amicably. The weather was nice. It had never been anything but so far - though the angel with fiery red hair (who normally stood guard at the Southern gate, and who was named Jahaziel) felt something… Off. 

“I feel like something bad is going to happen here.” 

The other angel, the guardian of the Eastern gate, who was named Aziraphale, gave him a curious look; imploring him to continue. 

Jahaziel, who would one day enjoy being called Hazi, made a bit of a face. But he did continue, successfully implored. “It’s too perfect. Too nice. We know what Heaven’s like. This isn’t Heaven.” Another pause, and this time he frowned. “It isn’t _meant_ to be Heaven.”

Aziraphale, who would one day be called Azzy (whether he enjoyed it or not), tilted his head with that same curious look. “And what makes you say that?”

Jahaziel shook his head slowly, as if he’d already given up on thinking anything else could have been the cause. “I can just _feel_ it. Something isn’t right. It isn’t going to be.” With a small gesture, he motioned at the garden below them. “Heaven’s built a house of cards and is waiting for these humans to knock on the front door.” Aziraphale, pretending he didn’t understand, nodded slowly. “You can give someone something perfect, but you don’t expect it to stay that way forever.”

It was at this moment that Aziraphale decided he probably loved Jahaziel, more than the usual amount of love he felt for things. Or, at the very least, he liked him a great deal. _‘This one is too brilliant for his own good,_ he thought, admiring the other angel’s eyes, _‘I must protect him.’_ Apart from perhaps the humans they looked after, he had loved nothing else like this before. It was a wonderful feeling.

Aziraphale had always been somewhat questioning of the authority of Heaven. Seeing friends fall for (what he imagined to be) petty and unjust reasons left him… skeptical. But that sort of thinking led to falling, and it was fear that kept him silent. During the rebellion and following war, he kept mostly to himself, not wanting to get singled out and accused of something. It had been more a relief than an honor to take the position to guard the Eastern gate, as it got him just that much further out of reach, and out of sight of watchful eyes.

Jahaziel, on the other hand, had been on his best behavior during the rebellion simply by being absent for it. Conveniently ducking out when things got messy, or finding excuses not to participate. It had worked well for him, and he had earned his position guarding the Southern gate by speaking up, unknowingly, when the duties were being handed out. Nothing outlandish had been said, though (in fact he had been responding to someone _else_ when he’d been called upon for his ‘enthusiasm’), and he hadn’t considered the job as a punishment at all. And he’d gotten a nifty neighbor out of it. Though again, that nagging feeling about _perfection_ had settled upon his shoulders rather quickly, and sought refuge in this conversation. It was something about Aziraphale’s willingness to listen that opened Jahaziel’s mouth, and when he wasn’t immediately chastised for questioning providence, he had continued.

He hadn’t been chastised after that, either, and it was at this moment he decided he liked Aziraphale. More than he liked most things.

“Jahaziel,” he introduced with a polite nod of his head. 

The angel of the Eastern gate liked this name. “Jahaziel. Lovely name.” He returned the nod, less polite and more warm. Though the difference was negligible to anyone but himself. “Aziraphale. What’s this about a house of cards, now?” Because he was very interested in what more Jahaziel had to say about the situation at hand.

Their conversation continued for another hour or so, touching on subjects they’d never dare to bring up among their peers. Jahaziel was pleased though somewhat hesitant to speak his mind. But Aziraphale never discouraged him, rather enjoying how the angel of the Southern gate dictated his thoughts. Thoughts often delivered with a lick of sass and droll observations on heavenly matters. Thoughts that Aziraphale had similar views on. Thoughts that would shape the next six thousand years.

\----

It was only a few days later that they met again. Jahaziel had been taking a stroll through the garden, admiring everything like he had from day one. His path took him to probably the most curious and alluring area, coming upon the tree bearing what had been designated “forbidden fruit”. Like anything else in the garden the fruit was the pinnacle of perfection, round and red and promising succulence like nothing else. He never tried anything in the garden; no no, these things were for the humans and the humans alone. Said humans were watching him curiously, approaching with a quiet caution. Though he was shaped like they were, there was something different about him; but his smile was welcoming, and he beckoned them closer.

“Surely,” he began in a tone as if speaking of a misbehaving child, “if it wasn’t meant to be partaken of, it would have been…” He searched for words in the air around them. “Harder to find.” He reached, plucking an apple from a bough and looking at it, giving a laugh as he tossed it in the air to himself and caught it. “Harder to _reach_ you’d think, eh?” 

This was something he’d been thinking about since he arrived at his post, this tree of forbidden fruits well in plain sight, unguarded, and certainly not-ominous. It was too on the nose. An obvious test of faith or trust or _whatever_ God had in mind this time. Not like he questioned it. (Though he did.) There was always some reason behind everything that happened here. As Eve tentatively came closer, he sniffed the apple’s sweetness as he turned more fully to her. “What would you wager…” A quiet hum. ”It’s just an ordinary apple, isn’t it?” he asked, scrunching his face, parts incredulous and parts amused with himself for thinking it. Wouldn’t that just be _perfect_ too? He held out the fruit to her. “Tempting either way, I think.” A bitter taste came to his mouth suddenly. It surprised him, since nothing had ever been defined as bitter yet before. He supposed that being tempting was rather the _point,_ wasn’t it? He still smiled, he still offered the apple. And to no one’s shock, certainly not his own, Eve took it.

Having a good view on the Forbidden Grove this morning, Aziraphale had been watching the brief interaction, but he didn’t see Jahaziel offering the apple to Eve until the wind blew the treetops out of the way _just so_. His stomach dropped as he saw the human take a bite. _Oh dear._ Oh, this was decidedly _very not good._ Considering how he spoke before, the other angel _wanted_ to egg the humans on to leave the garden. To break them through the perfect little pocket world the Almighty had created and explore the rest as fast as possible. And to Hell with the consequences. He looked on with remorse as Eve left with Adam and their newly bitten apple, questions dancing in their hearts for the first time. 

To Hell with it, indeed. He pushed off the edge of the wall and landed in the clearing by the tree. Jahaziel was staring at it with a satisfied but distant look. He looked back to see his neighbor folding in his wings again, and Jahaziel smiled. “Well if it isn’t my favorite neighbor,” he greeted pleasantly, though he felt a pit of fear growing heavy in his gut. They had only just spoken for the first time a handful of days ago. They didn’t _really_ know one another yet, thought provoking conversation or no. Who could know for sure, despite their apparent camaraderie, what the angel of the Eastern gate would have to say about his foible?

Aziraphale eyed the tree, raising his brow. “Admiring the tree?” he asked, clearly fishing. Aziraphale of course knew that he wasn’t _just_ admiring the tree, but beating around what would one day be known as the proverbial bush seemed a better approach then asking him outright. 

“Lot to admire. Gnarly thing, good design. Easy for anyone to marvel at, really,” Jahaziel replied quickly, tilting his head down and staring at the trunk of the thing and anywhere but Aziraphale.

The blonde angel sighed quietly. “You gave them one.”

Jahaziel pulled an expression of shock, as if he couldn’t ever have _dreamed_ of doing what the angel of the Eastern gate just accused him of. “What? Nooo, no! No, of course not! No!” he deflected, waving off the other angel, his voice just a pitch too high and emphatic.

“Jahaziel... I saw you.” Aziraphale took a small step forward. “We don’t actually _know_ what they’ll do when they find out the humans ate it!” he whispered harshly, glancing up at the sky. “Or… or what they’ll do to whom convinced them.”

Jahaziel clenched his teeth, looking around the clearing. “Mm.” His thoughts raced. Yeah, he knew it was wrong. He’d known it. Oh, but he was just _so_ curious, and he was sure the humans had been too. Who _wasn’t?_ “Well. They won’t then. They won’t find out. Humans left of their own accord.” The lie nearly wrote itself, as if what had happened was _meant_ to happen. ”Got stir crazy living in a cage. Besides.” And his voice dropped in mild irritation - ”it’s their own fault for putting a big red button in the middle of everything and expecting the poor things _not_ to press it.”

Aziraphale wanted to protest that point very much, but he was the last to fall in line with what Heaven considered good ideas anymore. Directly coercing the humans to disobey a command of God over her humans was absolutely _not_ a good idea, but he couldn't bear not saying _something_. Heaven was _definitely_ going to have Jahaziel’s hide for this - no, his halo, more specifically. There was no possible way in any realm he’d get out of that.

Except one.

“Well,” Aziraphale began, tone just the softest bit sullen, studying Jahaziel’s face like it was the last time he was going to see it. With what he had in mind, it very well may have been. “Perhaps that might work. Best not stick around the area then for anything else to be possible, right?”

“Right. Too right.” Jahaziel disappeared in a small red flash of light then, teleporting himself to the south wall to stand unassuming at his post.

Aziraphale didn’t leave the clearing. He looked up to the Eastern gate, taking a deep breath of the ever flawless fresh air. No more prolonging the inevitable. He'd been running already for so long, hiding and dodging and making up excuses and lies he knew, factually, the Almighty could see right through. _'It's about time'_ was a thought perhaps going through his mind. About time he suffer the consequences of his not-quite-on-par-with-Heaven-ly thoughts.

As the moments passed, Aziraphale began to feel true fear creep up his spine. Not the picks and pokes of worry that generally nagged him through his Heavenly duties, but something dark that filled his chest, causing him to take a quaking breath. It would be alright, when all was said and done. Different. Terrifying. But alright.

A strike of lightning fried the grass behind him, and someone familiar cleared their throat expectantly. Aziraphale turned, putting on his familiar façade for dealing with archangels, which included a tight smile and quick dip of his head. “Hello, Gabriel.”


	2. Chapter 2

Not until 1446 BC did they meet again, over 2550 years later. Primarily because every single time Aziraphale spotted Jahaziel from far away, he couldn’t bring himself to explain why he was fallen now. Somehow _I’m mad for you, and I took the blame for the apple business_ seemed too forward - they’d only met the two times, after all. So when he saw Jahaziel at the fall of Babel, at the fields where Mesoamericans started doing interesting things with corn, at the tiny village where the Chinese began tinkering with astronomy (at Jahaziel’s enthusiastic behest), Aziraphale stayed in the background. And every time, it hurt that much more. He wished his old neighbor would break that silence and turn his gaze _just so_ to see him. To divine the truth from the silence so Aziraphale wouldn’t have to say it himself. Every time he didn’t look, it settled frustration and sadness that much deeper, and it seemed almost hopeless.

Eventually, Jahaziel did notice. It was the one time Aziraphale got too close in a crowd of Egyptians outside Pharaoh Ramses’ palace, and the serpentine angel noted a whiff of sulphur in the breeze. Not that he hadn’t expected it, mind you: angels were all over the city right now at Divine request. Stood to reason demons would be too. Something big was going to go down once again, but no one in the lower holy ranks or hellish ones really knew the full details yet.

After the Flood, Jahaziel ceased to be surprised. Didn’t matter if completely innocent humans were involved. If they were in a place of “great sin”, everyone was culled. Head office erred on the side of the dramatic almost _every_ time. He had to think to himself that if more of them were down here among the humans for longer, they wouldn’t act in such… impersonal ways.

Jahaziel didn’t really shift blame to the Almighty, especially not after the Garden. Aziraphale had every right to fear that they would enact retribution on Jahaziel. But… Nothing ever happened. No one ever found out, miraculously. And it was at that point that Jahaziel started to believe that the Tree had been there for a reason. The Head Lady was omnipresent and omniscient, after all. She had to have known that either he or the humans would have picked from it eventually. Why else put it there? So from then on, he had decided to take whatever reasonable opportunity he could in helping the humans out.

Today, he’d been told to keep an eye on a shepherd coming into town from some back-hills village called Midian. The chap had his brother with him as well, one of the slaves from lower Goshen. They both seemed awfully good at pontificating, which could also be said for most of Heaven’s favored lot. They were the only real reason he wasn’t upset at being a foot soldier again. These two were supposed to advocate for the Israelites’ escape here. And Jahaziel liked what they had to say against the slave owners too, so he amplified the shepherd and slave’s voices, giving them a little extra boost of confidence to speak firmly to Pharaoh Ramses. Because Jahaziel was who he was, his influence of confidence planted an idea in their minds that God would provide them a very specific extra _oomph_. Jahaziel smiled, knowing the humans would put two and two together. He also knew there was a demon behind him, but they didn’t seem to be getting any closer for the moment. He let them be for now.

Aziraphale truly wanted nothing more than to _not_ be… let be. He stayed just enough behind Jahaziel to watch what was going on without being caught in the angel’s peripherals. In the center of the courtyard before the main gates of the royal palace, the shepherd held up his hands and yelled, “Behold! The power of God!” Aziraphale caught Jahaziel move a hand from his folded arms, and the slave brother threw his staff on the ground. It eventually coiled into a pool of angry cobra on the stone. 

The demon saw his chance, not wanting to have interrupted. "Funny little trick, hm?" Aziraphale's voice held no waver. It had better not, for how much effort he was banking on having this be a perfectly normal reunion. It was useless to hide any longer. Excitement he felt in his heart battled with the apprehension in his gut. He went over his practiced lie once again should he need to use it, and he smiled at the angel. 

Jahaziel turned towards Aziraphale, his ambiguous upper-class cottons hanging asymmetrically off him in the dry city air. He blended in with the white clad crowd seamlessly until one got close enough to notice the dark grey sash tied loose around his waist. His hair was somewhat shorter, Aziraphale noticed as well. It looked rather nice on him. His own hair had kept the shock white colouration, tousled now by the wind and weather. It also looked well on him, but nice as he looked, it didn't stop Jahaziel from hesitating an extra few moments, not knowing what to say. Aziraphale was the source of the sulphur smell, and he couldn’t see his halo anymore - that once comforting sight just out of phase with reality.

It was a shame that Aziraphale had fallen, plain and simple. Though much hadn't physically changed about his neighbor, it was the sense he got from him: the aura, the cloying darkness that surrounded him in spirit. What had changed, more immediately noticeable, was the fact that half his face was hidden by a cloth over his mouth and nose. As perhaps one weary that saw too much, a side effect of Aziraphale’s fall caused the lines below his lashes to sprout into a second set of eyes. They sat a little less than an inch below his normal ones, blue as you’d like and perennially melancholy. They curiously leaked more often than not, a slow trickle of what could possibly be considered tears.

Expectedly, Jahaziel’s heart ached for him. Unexpectedly, it ached more than he anticipated. He cleared his throat, glancing back to the Egyptian priests skittishly coming near the shepherd and slave’s cobra. “Like that, eh?” Somehow, not broaching the subject seemed like a better course of action for the moment. Jahaziel had no idea what to say, but he was still _burning_ to know. The angel of the Eastern gate had just seemed so _nice._ The last thing Jahaziel would have thought him capable of was outright sin.

Aziraphale came to stand next to him, watching the priests make their own sleight of hand show to combat the shepherd and slave’s proper magic. Despite himself, Aziraphale couldn’t pry his eyes away from their theatrics as he spoke to Jahaziel. “Seems a tad dramatic, wouldn’t you agree? I thought this was just a public protest.”

Jahaziel raised his brow, a small smile curling at his lip. “It might as well be. Was told to keep an eye on them, but it seemed they could use some proper help.” And he interrupted himself, switching gears, unable to keep the topic at bay any longer. “I’m sorry, why are you _fallen_?”

Angels weren’t exactly masters of tact, a fact that Aziraphale had all but forgotten until now. A smile, tight-lipped, came to his face, and he folded his hands in front of himself as his mind raced through the story one final time. “Ah, things happened, my dear boy.” And to be quite honest, it wasn’t much of a lie at all so much as it was… omission of parts of the truth. “Strong opinions aren’t always widely accepted. I finally spoke my mind.” 

It didn’t show on his face, but Jahaziel liked that response, though it did little to mollify him. He patiently waited for Aziraphale to finish, hoping the answer had more to it than ‘I got bold’. It did, thankfully, and the demon ( _’what an odd way to consider him now,’_ Jahaziel thought) continued. “I disagreed with something.” That giving the apple was really _so bad_. The angel’s logic had been quite sound in that regard. 

“That’s all?” Jahaziel pressed, throwing another glance towards the theatrics. Gaze quickly turned to Aziraphale again, however, wanting more. Almost needing it. 

“I asked how my thoughts were to be considered wrong.” That they _must_ have expected an apple to be taken at some point - otherwise, why put them there at all? “I asked…” Aziraphale’s eyes grew distant; sad. The ones Jahaziel could see, anyway. With a hum of near-contentment, he sighed. “I asked... ‘why.’” 

Aziraphale had never disagreed with what Jahaziel had said, or what he implied. In fact, it made a great deal more sense than most of what he’d been fed his entire existence. It had taken nearly a thousand years, but he eventually accepted what had happened to him. He had asked, why organize an experiment if you didn’t want results? He’d taken to Jahaziel’s reasoning more than he realized, and he’d defended his point and honor to the very end as if it were his own.

The angel looked back to center stage, face set in a pensive look. It would have been rather attractive, Aziraphale thought, had he not anticipated what it meant.

“You’re a demon now.” Jahaziel’s words held a sort of cutting finality to them, one that made Aziraphale wince. “I shouldn’t be seen with you.” It felt as if a rock settled in the pit of the angel’s stomach. This wasn’t something he wanted to say at _all_. He wanted to push a bit more. He wanted to find out exactly what he asked “why” about, and if it was one of the same “whys” he’d held in his heart. Heavens, Jahaziel really just wanted to _shoot the breeze_ with him again. He’d never met anyone else that listened without a shred of judgment. But the angel was still here for a purpose. Until the shepherd and slave came out on top of this protest and got people out, Jahaziel couldn’t really slink off anywhere to do what he wanted. He had no way of knowing if quality assurance was watching him anymore, either. Too many people around to tell. They’d been so persistent after the whole Chinese astronomy business that he had more trouble acting freely than he’d anticipated.

Aziraphale nodded. “No… No, I suppose not.” He swallowed then, taking a sidestep away from him, watching the show unfold. The priests successfully brought their own vipers into existence by then, and the crowds applauded enthusiastically. “I hope…” There was hesitation, and the demon closed his eyes, raising his voice over the clapping. “I hope you continue doing what you believe to be right, Jahaziel.” 

As Aziraphale walked away, Jahaziel felt the cold weight of regret settle on his shoulders. He clenched his teeth, staring hard at the ridiculing priests. The shepherd’s cobra attacked the vipers and swallowed them whole with a sort of cunning it shouldn’t have possessed. He’d never say such words, but he certainly thought quite loudly, _Fuck it_. “Oi!” he called out, pointing at the ground. “Anyone catch that their snake gobbled up the priests’? Power of Isis, my rear end!”

While the crowd’s attention was muddled and split, Jahaziel turned to spot the back of Aziraphale’s head walking down a nearby alleyway. With a final glance to the clamoring crowd, he followed. What did he have to lose at this point? His ‘job’ was finished, as far as he knew. He had time to catch up with an old friend. Differences be damned.

The demon’s chest had no real business hurting as much as it did. He’d said what he’d been more or less dying to say. He’d spoken to his old neighbor _finally_. He should be relieved. What else did he expect in response to being a demon? He’d known it would be like this for literally thousands of years!

But, and maybe foolishly, he’d still hoped it’d be different.

He needed a drink. A _very_ stiff drink. This part of town had a couple high class wine taverns, and he was going to need at least two jugs today. He made his way into one of them on a high hill and sat at the bar. A hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could actually order though, and he tensed slightly.

“Aziraphale,” began Jahaziel. The angel was suddenly at a loss for what to say. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times before he finally settled on something that, at least to him, made sense. “What - what I _meant_ to say. I shouldn’t be seen with a demon. ...On the job.” Brows raised hopefully, feeling an anxiety flitter around behind his ribcage that made him want to wring his hands as he waited for Aziraphale to reply. This was ridiculous. They had spoken all of _three times_ now, and only one of those conversations had really been something the angel could consider to be positive. Neutral, at best. He already felt as though he was upsetting Aziraphale, _disappointing_ him somehow, and that didn’t sit well at all. Which was _curious_ to him, and something to think about later. Aziraphale was a demon now. His opinion shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. It mattered more than he would have thought. It seemed as if his own opinions still mattered to the demon too, which just added another layer of confusion to think about. Again… Later. “It should be alright to at least find time for a drink with one _after.”_

All the while, the demon himself was merely hoping for the opportunity to speak to Jahaziel again. So, understandably, he allowed himself to be hopeful at Jahaziel amending his earlier, hurtful statement. Aziraphale knew there was no way they could be as casual as before. And really, it was silly of him to have been so offended. He knew this, too. It was still a blow he had trouble deflecting, even after so long. Yet here was an olive branch. He would have been foolish to bat it away. (And there were still things he wanted to discuss with the angel - even if this ended up being their last meeting.)

“You’re in luck then, I believe.” Aziraphale waved towards the tavern keeper, and not much longer after that two cups of wine were set down in front of them. He smiled at Jahaziel, offering him one. “I happen to be a demon.” The cheekiness was delivered with some measure of uncertainty, for Aziraphale was not usually one to be so forward. And it wasn’t until just now that he would realize he hadn’t intended for anyone, from the Above or Below, to find out that he liked to _imbibe._ What surprised him more, perhaps, was that Jahaziel was willing to join him - and had suggested as much before Aziraphale had even ordered for himself. 

The conversation the two shared went better than either of them expected it to. Once the pair of oddities had a drink in them things seemed so much easier to deal with and talk about. Despite having to keep their voices down, it was almost as if they were right back in the garden again; discussing things as banal as the weather, and as exciting as what the world around them had to offer. Some laughs were had, and the angel and demon, for a short while, anyway, felt right as rain. Jahaziel brought up some interesting tidbits regarding what Heaven was up to (nothing damning though, of course), and this Aziraphale only listened to, nodding politely. He had nothing to offer on what Hell had been doing these days, as avoiding the elephant in the room was something they both seemed keen on doing. Regardless, the company shared was adored and dearly missed. Jahaziel discussed his deeds in various countries around the world, detailing his trip to China and a couple other places around the globe. He seemed particularly fond of _influencing_ humans towards reason instead of holy things, and it almost sounded like cheating in a way. Sounded just like the Garden all over again, thought Aziraphale more than once. Not a very angelic thing to do. It only served to make the demon _even more_ interested than he had been before, and kept his attention rapt.

Jahaziel felt saddened their meeting had begun with him essentially telling Aziraphale to _go away_ , and Aziraphale shared similar sentiments on approaching him after so long with a status change he knew would worry him. But he… had more important things to talk to him about. Decidedly so. 

Those things did not come up during drinks. The pair of them left, pleasantly sauced, down another road of the marketplace. The sun had since set, sky a beautiful painting of stars above them. Jahaziel, in this state, was a bit more open about admiring it - leaning against Aziraphale and pointing upwards towards a glimmering slip of a distant galaxy. “You see that?” he asked, voice holding a warm pride, “that’s one of mine. This is the first night humans are able to see it fully, like this.” 

About to respond, treasuring the closeness the angel allowed him and the _love_ his voice held for his creations, Aziraphale’s attention was redirected once again to a merchant sitting outside his tent, glancing upwards and drawing. 

Jahaziel noticed him quickly as well. “Ohhhhh.” The angel left his side to hurry over, peeking down at what was a star chart being freshly made. He looked up, then down, then up, then down again - a brilliant smile spreading across his face. (It was a very nice smile, Aziraphale noted. Something he would come to desire seeing more often.) “You’re _charting it_ , aren’t you?” His voice held such honest adoration that Aziraphale had to pause, hand spreading over his chest. He missed that feeling.

“Yes,” the merchant replied, sounding just the smallest bit confused, “I have just finished it. Are you interested?”

Jahaziel paused, shaking his head after a moment. “Oh… No, no, I shouldn’t…” He took half a step back before Aziraphale was behind him, hand on the small of his back, preventing him from leaving.

“Why not? I think you deserve it.” His voice lowered, smile curling onto his face. “All the hard work you put into making it, and this human has done such a _wonderful_ job re-creating it. Surely, indulging in your work every now and again is acceptable.” It was a little unclear, even to the demon himself, whether or not this second-hand temptation was more for the benefit of his status, or for the simple fact he wanted Jahaziel to have something nice for himself to remember this evening by. 

Through the haze of the wine in his system, Jahaziel considered. _Surely,_ Aziraphale had said. Surely he deserved it. The angel shouldn’t have _wanted_ for anything, but be it the demon’s pressure or the fact he really _did_ want to own the depiction of one of his favorite creations, he nodded slowly. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.” He fished in his pocket for a sheep shaped gold piece, the exact amount the merchant would have asked for plus a little bit more, and traded it off. Chart in hand, he gazed down at it, then up again, then over at Aziraphale. He looked almost _proud_ of himself, and Aziraphale shared the sentiment. 

“There you go, my boy.” Aziraphale looked to the merchant with a little smirk and a wink of thanks before the two of them headed down the street again. They were quiet for a few minutes, leaving the light of the torches just enough to feel a chill beyond the last row of buildings. ‘ _Keep doing what you believe to be right.’_ It echoed in the angel’s head, now that they were alone, and he hummed quietly.

Their walk took them out of the market district, coming near an upper walkway that overlooked the courtyard Moses had been at not two hours before. The crowds were gone, but the memory of the excitement was still fresh in their minds, as well as the city’s. “Something is going to happen here.” Jahaziel turned, gesturing towards the pharaoh's palace doors. “Though I shouldn’t need to tell you that.”

Aziraphale nodded, following his gaze to the ornate doors, hands clasped in front of himself. His chest rose and fell in a sigh, raising a brow. “And you think it’s unfair. If I may speculate, of course. God has something planned to… teach a lesson again, or set an example.”

Jahaziel nodded as well, looking down at the star chart in his hands. A spot of still-drying ink came off on his thumb, and without thinking he wiped it off on a corner. It smeared, and he scowled, grumbling something quietly. “I don’t want to believe God would do something like… like _that_ again.” Vivid flashbacks of the Flood fittingly ebbed through his mind like high tide, and he closed his eyes. He knew better than anyone here that it was inevitable. Ineffable. “I can’t believe it. I shouldn’t.”

Memories of Aziraphale’s own, though those of the Garden, swirled around with the wine in his head. This was all too familiar to him. Same conversation, different century. Though this time, he had no real incentive to dissuade Jahaziel from thinking the way he did. It would be crude to insult him outright, tacky to encourage him. He may have been a demon now, but he was still Aziraphale, and while his beliefs had shifted in necessity he still had values of his own. To hell with Hell. To hell with _Heaven._

“You thought this of Eden as well, Jahaziel,” he reminded quietly. _’And you were right.’_ “I feel as if snakes and serpents are the least of your concerns for now.” A glance to the tattoo near his ear. “No offense, of course.”

The angel nodded solemnly. The _why_ in his mind was as loud as ever, amplified by the pressing of the demon next to him. “Suppose we’ll just have to see.” It wasn’t as if it made him particularly uncomfortable. Aziraphale’s belief in him was a seed he’d unwittingly nurtured since their first meeting. But there were eyes everywhere, ears too, and lest he end up fallen himself…

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, lifting his free hand to rest it on the demon’s shoulder. Golden eyes glanced over at him, and even in the dim moonlight he could see the distant pain in the pair that met his own. “For what I said earlier. I still want to see you. I only want to avoid trouble for us both.” Which isn’t what he wanted to say, not fully, but the two were famously adept at beating around the bush as previously seen. 

For what it was worth to him, however, Aziraphale did smile, and it was enough to reach his eyes. Warmth bloomed in his chest just a bit, and he nodded. “I understand. Of course I understand, Jahaziel.” He patted the angel’s back, hand lingering for a moment. “I’m quite certain this won’t be the last we see of each other. Despite our… differences.” Differences that, when all was said and done, weren’t really differences at all. “Once again... I only hope that you keep hold of your beliefs.” 

Jahaziel felt a spike of love in the air again for the umpteenth time that night, but he brushed it off when he saw two people walking across the courtyard. It went without saying that the beliefs Aziraphale wanted Jahaziel to keep hold of were not that of Heaven’s, and it also went without saying that Jahaziel knew this. _'Hopefully not as tightly as you did,'_ he thought, and immediately felt awful for it. But Aziraphale could not read his thoughts (at least he was reasonably certain of this), so his guilt was a secret betrayed only by the sad look on his face easily explained away by the egregious roots of their conversation.

It wasn’t even a month later that Jahaziel’s awful memories of children drowning in the flood were replaced by ones even _worse_. Fifty times worse. Archangels had descended on the city a mere day after he met with Aziraphale, and they wrought _pure terror_ on the Egyptians. All of the Horsemen were even involved, set loose on the city one by one. Jahaziel had to keep reminding himself that this was all mandated because of the slave owners and stubbornness of Pharaoh Ramses. All of it. It was just. It was fair.

His faith took a beating that month. He was ordered to help Pestilence infect an entire quadrant of the city with boils, one house and building at a time. It seemed an awful management decision on Gabriel’s part. They should have, dare Jahaziel think it, _outsourced_ this sort of work.

Every time Jahaziel had to miracle a locked door open to spread in some of Pestilence’s borrowed power, he knew those people inside would fear the man with snake eyes for _generations_. Might even make a legendary demon out of him in human lore. He would freely admit that he no longer felt like he deserved to be among Heaven. This was _not_ the Heaven he stood for. He didn’t _want_ to stand for this. What he did want was to weep for them. But he didn’t have enough tears for them all.

When Death descended on the city just before the month was done, Jahaziel would not admit, for many centuries at least, that he gave over to Wrath in his heart. The most powerful Horseman spread over the city like an invisible mist, efficiently taking the lives of every first born in every Egyptian family, just as they had taken the Israelites’ first borns forty years prior. _It was just. It was fair._ This became his mantra. It didn’t help, but it was better than listening to anything else his mind had to say about it. He was troubled. He wasn’t looking to get _into_ trouble.

Jahaziel would never quite let go of that memory. Would it have been better, dare he think it, to have the entire city wiped off the face of the planet instead? All those Israelites would have to live with seeing these horrors too, but they were comforted in the knowledge that their God had finally saved them. She didn’t. Heaven just eliminated the people confining them. They were the ones that had to walk for years through the desert. Some deliverance.

Quiet wrath against his superiors was going to largely shape the kind of angel he’d be for the rest of his life. And after the Red Sea fell on the Egyptian army, the angel promised himself _never again._ He’d never participate in this kind of thing again. 

As time went on though, _how_ he’d defy Heaven’s orders became more difficult to see. But the question of ‘would it be better if they all died’ was something he _never_ should have thought even for a second, even in despair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're just gonna... pretend.... that the scenes below happened after Moses' time historically ^^; - IgFrizz

Hastur deigned to grace Aziraphale with his presence a couple hundred years later. Via a reliable source, Hell had learned that Heaven was turning its gaze on yet another poor, unfortunate city in the Middle East. More specifically, two cities. After the fiasco at Cairo, Hell had its feelers out for whenever Heaven may have been feeling like smiting again. Great despair always came along with it, and Hastur and his like drooled at the opportunity to capitalize on it.

So that was how Aziraphale found himself in Sodom and Gomorrah, one of the more liberal places on Earth at the time. He hadn't been in a social club for more than a minute before he heard a very familiar, rambunctious voice further in.

More than elated to leave the other demon behind, he followed the sound to its source.

“And then I said, I said to him--” Recognizable hands waved animatedly in the air, the owner of the familiar voice grinning to a modest crowd that he had gathered. “I said you can have the _horse_ , but _that’s_ my dog.” The eruption of laughter that followed, the clearly pleased look on Jahaziel’s face and the _smile_ that came with it - all endeared the demon that much more. He dared to edge his way through the small sea of bodies, standing a bit to the left of the angel and waiting patiently for either another story or another round of drinks being ordered to draw Jahaziel’s gaze to him.

Running out of both stories and alcohol, the angel did indeed give another sweep of his audience - catching Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye. He’d recognize that mask, _those eyes_ , anywhere. He held up a single finger in a ‘one moment’ gesture to him rather discreetly with a wink, and without realizing it a quietly delighted smile came to the demon’s face. Aforementioned demon gave a little half-wave, pulling his hand back down almost shyly as the angel’s face turned away. Oh, this was. Ridiculous. Aziraphale didn’t even stay to hear what was undoubtedly a very goofy (and more than likely untrue) story, turning to find himself - and the angel - a drink. 

Jahaziel did not need another drink, but he would happily take one offered by the demon. Which would happen as he finished his last tall tale and stepped away from his fans, heading up to the bar and gently touching Aziraphale on the arm. His own smile, bright as anything, lit up as the demon turned, and a drink was held out to him.

“Not on the job, are you?” Aziraphale asked _almost_ coyly, smiling at him again. “Still a demon, after all.” Said demon felt _tingly_ all of a sudden but decided that it was a byproduct of all the goings-on in this place, rather than anything else it could have been. Plenty of sin and bad decisions going around to cause it. It was certainly not that smile the redhead had, and certainly not the idea of sharing another drink and conversation with the angel he’d become so keen on these past dozens of centuries. He became even tinglier still as the drink was taken, and smiled over. Oh, how he’d fall again for that smile alone. A reddening of his cheeks was quickly covered by his own sip, and he hummed happily. (Silly, ridiculous thought.)

“Aziraphale,” the angel greeted warmly, giving a fond pat to his shoulder. Fond as it was, as much as he was enjoying himself and this sudden company, a distinctive pull in the back of his mind told him it could mean nothing but trouble. He did not blame Aziraphale for that. It wasn’t the demon’s fault he was essentially a herald of bad tidings to come. If anything, he could convince himself that it gave him time to adequately steel himself against them. It was better to be prepared mentally, if nothing at all. “Even if I was, I could make an exception.” 

True enough, Jahaziel wasn’t working. Yet. He was technically standing guard. He’d been called to wait in the area for further instructions. Instead of being a foot soldier like last time, he’d been placed on point for whatever this was - technically an honor, considering Gabriel had decorated him after Egypt. “Exceptional execution of God’s will” was how he termed it. “Execution” indeed. _Right sanctimonious prick_ , he thought of his superior silently. He should never think such things of an archangel, but it was true! He was dearly trying to believe that him being called here would be something simple like giving a priest somewhere holy power for an exorcism. Or protecting some ancestors of important political figures to come. Hardly anything worked out that smoothly in the past for him though. It was just pure naivete at this point. But what else did he have to keep himself in line?

Aziraphale did smile, but it turned wan after another sip. “Heard about Egypt.” His voice was quiet; sympathetic. He did all he could to stress that he, by no means, wanted to rub anything in the angel’s face. He couldn’t imagine how it must have felt for him. It didn’t stop him from trying. Distantly, his heart ached, but he knew nothing he had to say could repair what damage had surely been done. Even further, he knew he didn’t want it to. It couldn’t - Jahaziel had to learn these things. It wasn’t a ploy, nor a temptation. More than anything, Aziraphale wanted him to learn the truth for himself.

Jahaziel wanted it as well. He did not know this yet. Thinning his lips, the angel looked off into the merry crowds. He cleared his throat, really not wanting to relive that particular time period. The memories came to him unbidden enough. “Yep,” he said with a slight pop at the end. “Divine Plan won out again.” He tried to sound neutral, but his words still held ruefulness. He hoped Aziraphale wouldn’t pursue it further. To cut off any chance of it, he shifted gears. He gestured to his own mouth and nose area. “Gotten fond of the mysterious look, have you? Just as well, considering you’ve got to be subversive nowadays.”

Aziraphale smiled thinly, not liking to be reminded of those certain things about himself either. He did want to prod Jahaziel further on Egypt, but who wouldn’t consider that business a sore subject? “Well. Needs must, I suppose.” He glanced around to make sure no one was looking their direction before pulling one side of the mask down briefly, revealing one of his second pair of eyes for Jahaziel to see. They stared just as dolefully as the others, and deep down Jahaziel felt a little queasy. Not - not because of the extra eyes. They were actually somewhat fetching, despite the circumstance. No, he felt sickened because he knew they _meant_ something. Everything unnatural always meant something in Heaven and Hell. Just like his own eyes represented his God-given significance and gifts.

Still, his brows rose in understanding, and he nodded politely with a small “Ah.” 

“You seem to be doing the opposite this time around,” continued Aziraphale, fixing the veil back again. “Mingling directly with the humans.” Neither of them needed to clarify since it was something angels only did out of necessity. Jahaziel’s chatting before had no discernable point other than to entertain and would easily be argued as... recreational. Such a benign but frowned upon word in Heaven. “Part of the Plan?”

The angel grit his teeth, trying to cover it up with a smirk and sip of his wine. “Everything is, undoubtedly. Wouldn’t be needed in such a happy place if something wasn’t going to happen to it. Hedging bets on what will happen this time. Care to wager?” He should have sounded more lighthearted, but he was coming off more bitter and cold than intended due to his growing, nervous dread. He just wished he _knew_ why he was here.

Aziraphale raised a shrewd brow at his old friend before ducking his head. “Ah no, thank you. Heaven can be infinitely creative when they want to be rid of something. Which is ah. Which is why I’m here.” He smiled under his mask, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “My er. My _ilk_ are quite envious of that fact.” _More like vultures watching a dying animal,_ he nearly said. Hastur was still somewhere closeby, and Aziraphale knew how much he liked to change his face. He never knew where the ghastly bugger would turn up when they had to work together. The duke was probably trying to corrupt a poor married sod to cheat right at that moment. “Maybe they’re hoping to get some tips.”

Despite everything, Jahaziel laughed quietly at that. “Not you though?”

Aziraphale glanced at him, wrinkling his nose _just_ so. “I prefer subtlety. Reason.”

Something _very_ pleased and excited uncoiled in Jahaziel’s chest. Aziraphale was _preaching to the choir_ , even as a demon. He studied his old neighbor intently. “Yeah?”

“I don’t like getting my hands dirty. You don’t even really need to push humans very hard to sin anymore. They’ve gotten good at it. I’m sure you’ve noticed. You’re quite observant, after all.”

Unbidden, a little hint of pink touched Jahaziel’s cheekbones. He knew it was more of a statement of fact than a real compliment. He knew this, but it still felt nice. He swirled his wine, studying the tannins floating on the bottom. “Am I now?” he said, smile working the corners of his mouth. “Supposed to believe every shred of awfulness and indignity the humans suffer is due to you lot. Your very existence demands it to be so.”

Aziraphale _humphed_ through his nose, his cheeks creasing with a real smile. He remembered that mantra all too well. “If only Upstairs knew.”

Jahaziel decided he _definitely_ liked this one. He’d decided it a long time ago, but this only reinforced it. His only good memories of Egypt pleasantly blanketed over the rest for a while, and he kept on with their playful almost-flirting. “Neither of us would really have to work so hard if they did know, would we?”

Aziraphale tipped his cup towards him in agreement. “What an easy life that would be.”

About to make another quip, Jahaziel paused before anything could come out of his mouth. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and his ears had the faintest ringing. Someone had just teleported from Heaven nearby. He looked around, not seeing any familiar faces. Yet.

Aziraphale didn’t miss the change in the angel’s demeanor, going on alert himself. “What’s wrong?”

“Boss’s here. I’d uhh. I’d make yourself scarce, Azzy.” He hoped it wasn’t Gabriel. It was _going_ to be Gabriel, but that didn’t stop him from hoping it wasn’t. “Right about _now._ ”

Not having time to comment on _that particular sobriquet_ , Aziraphale did as suggested and faded seamlessly into the crowd. Not even a nanosecond later, gooseflesh overcame Jahaziel’s entire back. He looked over his shoulder to see not Gabriel, but _Michael_. He turned around from the bar to incline his head toward the archangel in respect. “Sir,” he said quietly. A cold shock of anxiety went down his spine. He made sure his look of terror had subdued before he picked his head back up again.

The archangel hadn’t bothered dressing in local garb or hiding their golden facial accents and tattoo. Already not a good sign. They didn’t care what humans saw of them here, and that was… rather alarming in and of itself. They looked Jahaziel up and down before sighing pleasantly. “ _Enjoying_ yourself, Jahaziel?”

Out of pretty much any angel that could have showed up, he would have taken anyone but Michael. They _were_ the very first angel, after all. The one that was going to personally throw Satan in the Lake of Fire someday. Their bullshit meter was _matched by none._ He still had to try covering his ass though, didn’t he? “Ohhh, not as such. Not like I can go standing in the town square waiting stock still as a statue,” he said easily, taking the last swig of his drink before setting the cup on the counter. “Better to blend in, wouldn’t you agree?”

They looked down their nose at him. “In any other case, I would, naturally,” they said coolly. “But you’ve had time to see this place now. What’s your verdict?”

Jahaziel had never been to Sunday school - never would, either. It wouldn’t be invented for another couple thousand years anyway. But in that moment he could have been ten years old being quizzed on verses by a priest. “Uh. Well.” He looked around the social club, not seeing anything really out of the ordinary. Humans were generally chummy, but here they were almost unabashedly so. It was really quite a breath of fresh air. No matter who you were, no one would judge who you decided to kiss or hold on your lap. No one gave a flying hoot. People could just _be human_ here, good or bad. He found it all very beautiful, if he were being honest. With himself, of course. Perhaps Aziraphale, had he been present for this little train of thought. Humans being themselves, like they were meant to be. His brows creased, gentle and brief. He knew it didn’t really matter what his opinion was, though he still chose his words _very_ carefully. “Bit… a bit loose. Chaotic, if you want to look at it that way.”

“ _Exactly_. Chaotic. Out of control. Gluttony, lust, wrath - and they’re all so _proud_ of themselves for it. You see? The whole entire Seven, nearly. It’s been rampant for _decades_. There are crime syndicates here centered around extortion, trafficking of all sorts - _defloration_ for god’s sake, Jahaziel.”

Without hesitation, Jahaziel winced. “Yeah, that’s not good.”

“Quite so!” they agreed, giving a small huff and relaxing at his reaction. “I mean, it makes utter sense. From the smell of it here, it’s clear Hell’s been very busy. It’s far past time for it all to go.”

He raised his brows. He was pretty sure that smell was just general human odor. If you weren’t around it long enough as an angel, it could easily be mistaken for a demonic nature. “We’re bringing down crime syndicates? That’s… that’s very hands on. I’m surprised.”

Michael shook their head, smiling patiently at the principality. “No. No, that would be far too costly.” They almost looked proud of themself. “We’re incinerating the entire area at dawn.”

It took a second to hit him, but the full weight of the dreaded truth hit him square in the chest. “In-- _incinerating?!_ No. Noooo. Both cities? _Everyone?_ ”

Michael shrugged as if it were obvious. “Of course.”

Almost as if to torture him further, Jahaziel saw children outside the main entrance, clearly excited to be up far past their bedtime. “There are--” Jahaziel cleared his dry, cracked voice. _Not again._ “There are other places far worse on earth than Sodom and Gomorrah. I’m sorry, but how is _incinerating_ less costly than influencing the place toward good? Could we not - I dunno, evacuate the city of the innocent first?!” He’d started to raise his voice, but he didn’t care anymore.

Michael’s features thankfully softened, but their next words did nothing to make him feel better. “You have good intentions, Jahaziel. I understand where you’re coming from. But anyone living here has been touched by baser immorality. Not one of them is innocent. We don’t have the man hours to spare for a proper cleansing. We’re doing the world a favor by not letting this depravity spread.”

Jahaziel felt like a child being talked down from a tantrum. He wanted to keep protesting. To force them to see reason. That this was _entirely_ wrong to just kill _everyone_ indiscriminately. It was the Flood and Egypt all over again. Wrath once again gnashed in his heart. So much for God’s promises and rainbows and what not. He lowered his gaze from Michael instead, thinning his lips. Took a deep breath. Counted to five. “Very well,” he said tightly. “Dawn then.”

Satisfied, Michael nodded, holding their hands out at their sides in the way almost every angel would in famous paintings to come. He could not deny that in those moments, Michael truly looked like a gorgeous, holy being. It was so conflicting. “Take heart, Jahaziel. We’re doing the right thing. For the glory of God.”

He was supposed to say it back, but he just _couldn’t_ right then. He nodded curtly. “See you in the morning.”

One blink and prickle of the skin later, and Michael was gone again as if they never existed to begin with, nary a single human’s attention caught. Jahaziel’s eyes fell shut for the first time that day, and he sneered, baring his teeth for a moment. He turned back to the bar and _slammed_ his fist on the bartop. Had he not held back, he would have splintered wood. Another full cup was a little too promptly brought out to him, which he didn’t need but downed in one go anyway.

Aziraphale had been too far to hear what was being said, but he’d recognized the archangel Michael. And whatever they said _clearly_ upset Jahaziel. He started to approach again, but someone he didn’t recognize intercepted him. “Did you hear that?” asked a diminutive woman with Hastur’s gravelly voice. 

Aziraphale had to resist the urge to cringe away from the other demon’s foul breath, though kept his stance perfectly neutral and somewhat bored. “Sorry, what?”

Hastur excitedly repeated what he’d heard the two angels discussing, and the full weight of Jahaziel’s mood washed over him. Now everything made sense.

The woman in front of him had her eyes change into pure black, Hastur clearly losing control of his disguise in his excitement. “Oh this will be delightful. There are hardly even any virtuous people in this entire city! They’ll be like blood on paper - _so easy to spot._ ”

“‘Blood on paper,’ did you just come up with that now?” Aziraphale couldn’t help but ask, slightly annoyed that the other demon was coming up with idioms of all things right now.

Hastur paused, his eyes fading to a normal color again, frowning incredulously at him. “Yes. Why does that matter? It--it doesn’t.” He shook his head, clasping his hands together. “Come. We have some righteous to suss out.” And with that, the duke disappeared into the crowd, appearing again at the front door then melting into the night.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and cautiously joined Jahaziel at the bar again, leaning heavily on his elbows. “Well.”

Jahaziel ran his tongue hard against the top of his mouth, making a clicking sound. “Yeah,” he said tightly. “You heard that then?”

There was something about the way that Jahaziel’s body was rigid but ready to explode at any second that made Aziraphale keep some distance between them for the moment, despite very much wanting to comfort him with more than just his words. “My _associate_ did.” No small amount of disgust coloured his tone. None at all. “Clued me in before he left.”

Jahaziel shook his head for a couple seconds, eyes far away and intense. He’d blame the drink later, but he couldn’t help but let out a minor curse as he spoke. “Well, I can tell you one thing. I won’t be bloody participating this time.” He looked at Aziraphale dead in the eye. “I’m getting people out of here.”

Aziraphale’s gaze widened on both sets. “You’re _actually_ going to go directly against a Heaven mandated task?”

“You’re the one always saying ‘do what you believe is right,’” Jahaziel rapid fired off, clicking his black fingernails on the countertop. He looked out the front door again, his upper lip pulling up at the corner for a minute. “To Hell with the write-ups. Right is right. City might have some rotten eggs, but that doesn’t mean every single one is bad.”

Fondness erupted in Aziraphale’s chest. It fought for the space behind his ribcage with the growing knowledge that this was _exactly_ the type of thinking that would lead to bad things. Extremely bad things. Bad things he would never wish for the angel regardless of whatever side they happened to be on. Even still, what he felt in those moments did not play for either team. It wasn’t his defiance towards Hell, nor his bitterness at Heaven that influenced his next words. It was the growing bond between them that was the only bit of anything worth a damn the demon felt in centuries. “I’m going to help you.”

Jahaziel finally looked at the demon, searching his masked face. “What?” It wasn’t as if he didn’t believe him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t _want_ him to help. Did Aziraphale truly have nothing to lose, that he was willing to do this with him? “Why?”

If the demon was being honest with himself, Michael had always frightened him a little. The angel ruled with an iron fist in a velvet glove, and their way with words had quite the same effect. Their parting speech to Aziraphale had merely _suggested_ he go to Hell, and the way it had been said almost made him look forward to the trip. The influence they had, the _power,_ quite plainly, unseated him. He had a remarkable respect for the fact Jahaziel managed an entire conversation with them on such a tense topic, never mind the fact they would need to interact on the regular. That, if nothing else, deserved some kind of pat on the back. Further still, Aziraphale’s chest ached at the thought of the angel having to accomplish anything he hoped to _by himself._ As the only two beings in existence that knew what was happening, and who wanted to at least try and fix it, if only a little bit, the demon really had no other options. Ignoring it would be giving in to _both_ sides in some manner; something he was unwilling to do at any cost. (Not to mention, it was nearing 3 am - they were running out of time.)

So instead of going on at length about all that, instead of trying to come up with some excuse as to how this might be beneficial to them both in the long run, Aziraphale merely shook his head and shrugged. The truth would always win out. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

Jahaziel could have cried. In fact, wetness did rim his eyes, but all he did was nod. He could dwell on all the implications of this later when time wasn’t getting away from them. Without another word, they slipped from the club into the night.

With banter that was as polite as they could afford, the unlikely pair managed to find a decent father of two out walking the streets to enjoy the evening air. They found out he didn’t partake of the general festivities of the city, but instead used the foot traffic to his advantage. He made pottery and cups for the local taverns, earning humble coin for himself and his family. Enough to get by, and maybe afford a luxury or two every so often.

One could reason that taking advantage of the festivities of sin could be considered blasphemous in and of itself, but Jahaziel’s only regret may have been that he would possibly have trouble finding work after being relocated. It couldn’t be helped, really. It was either that, or get swept up in the incineration. The demon and angel shared a look, a slight nod, and continued walking with the man towards what would turn out to be his home.

Unbeknownst to any of them, a pair of keen eyes had been following them for a considerable amount of time; intent on adding their two pretty faces to a catalogue of other pretty faces for reasons less than innocent. Befitting of the exact thing Heaven was aiming to eradicate, in an ironic sort of way.

Oblivious, the two chatted with the father outside his home, their conversation growing more clipped and urgent by the minute. They didn’t have much time left. 

“Will you show us some of your work?” Aziraphale asked after another shared glance with Jahaziel, who was keeping eyes on the area around them for any signs of Michael, or the aforementioned ‘associate’. The demon smiled, closing his hands in front of himself. “You mentioned work for the taverns and clubs, however I must admit I didn’t get a good look at them.” He gestured at the front door. “May we?”

He held his breath, as did Jahaziel, but the man agreed to lead them into the house despite the hour. (A smidge of hellish temptation may have had a hand in that.) Once inside, their demeanor shifted immediately, and they flanked the man in the least threatening way they could.

“Sir,” Jahaziel began, tone rushed, “I’m very afraid we don’t have much time to explain something to you that won’t make a great deal of sense. And you might think, ‘Well, these two certainly had quite enough to drink, and are maybe a bit more acquainted with my work than they let on.’ I can assure you - ...Alright, yes,” he admitted with a nod, rubbing his forehead a bit, “I did have probably a bit more than I should have. But - “ Aziraphale’s hand stopped his words, and he quieted, letting the demon take over. He wanted to wring his hands again, scream and yell at the man to take everything he could and _run_ , but threats had no place here. They needed fear, but not _cruelty._ What was going to happen here would be cruel enough.

“As my friend was saying-” _Friend,_ Aziraphale thought, _is this the first time I’ve referred to him as a friend…?_ He shook his head very suddenly, as if trying to get something out of his hair. Not the time nor the place for that. “There is something urgent we need to explain to you. We haven’t much time, but something bad is coming. A-” Oh, what the Heaven was something bad enough to make a human run? “We overheard someone talking in the club. Someone is making plans to take a daughter belonging to a man matching your description. We… We really think it’s best if you took your family and left.” An unsure look was given to Jahaziel, not quite sure his lie was really up to snuff. He was used to lying to Heaven, he was used to lying to _Hell._ Humans were a different story entirely. But it seemed Jahaziel had nothing to offer to spice up the fib, so he continued. “Tonight. Er. At dawn.” 

It took a little more finessing from the both of them, but the man eventually roused his sleeping wife and daughters, and with the help of the two celestials, the humans managed to pack up some meager belongings and things they might need in little time.

Outside, however, a few large men seemed to have other plans on how the evening would go. 

The door was kicked in. There was screaming. Jahaziel shielded the humans with himself and did his best to lead them around the modest crowd that had gathered in the small domicile, towards the busted in door after a couple loud bangs. The supposed leader held up a sickle shaped sword at Jahaziel then Aziraphale. He let out an indecent sort of deep throated noise. “Ahhh… he was right. There you two lovelies are. Where do you think you’re going?” 

With a scowl, Aziraphale took point, a large set of dark cream and grey wings erupting from his back. This startled the men enough to let the angel escape with the family, and the demon circled around them, eventually ending up with his back to the door. Jahaziel had rushed back in to help, only to witness Aziraphale tearing off his mask with a growl. Many of the men jolted back and paled. 

“There will be enough ugliness today without you lot adding to it,” Aziraphale said, dangerously quiet. “Your eyes are bigger than your stomachs.” A vivid, almost turquoise glow filled the room, the men staring in abject horror. Their gazes went from focused and terrified to glassy and blank - it wasn’t a moment later that they were quite literally tripping over themselves trying to escape, running into walls blindly and crying out. And it was another moment later when Jahaziel realized the source of the light was from the demon’s four eyes. 

Aghast, he tugged at Aziraphale’s arm. “We have to leave. Now!” His heart hammered in his chest, fear and adrenaline and all other sorts of annoying, insufferable human feelings mixing inside of him. He’d never seen a demon, a _truly_ demonic presence this close before. This was another moment that would haunt the angel for quite some time. It wouldn’t be Aziraphale he was afraid of, looking back on it. It was Aziraphale he was afraid _for._

“Quite right,” the demon breathed, voice rough. A head shake later, and the light was gone, wings vanishing as quickly as they had appeared. It had been a little drastic, but it was the only thing Aziraphale could think of to quell the invading men and keep them away from what would be the only family the two of them could protect from what was going to happen. 

The pair ran, catching up with the family that Jahaziel had urged to flee. Dawn just began breaking on the horizon, and both the angel and demon spotted human-shaped figures a bit too puritanical and clean to belong to the citizens of the city. 

Run and keep running had been the only advice they had, but one of the daughters hadn’t seemed to quite understand the haste with which they needed to do said fleeing. She fell behind as the city erupted into flames, the rest of her family already over a nearby hill. She screamed for them to wait, holy fire hot at her back. It caught the attention of a different angel standing not fifty yards away. Jahaziel noticed him, and the wicked, ugly grin that spread across his face.

“Sandalphon, no! Please-” 

Jahaziel was fast. Aziraphale was fast. But neither were fast enough. They stopped in their tracks as salt rained down onto the earth, looking like a tranquil patch of snow despite everything. About to fall to his knees in devastation, Jahaziel was hauled up by a strong hand around his wrist. 

“I’m sorry, my dear. But we have to go.” Aziraphale’s voice was as pained as Jahaziel’s heart, but he knew the demon was right. 

Needing to concentrate on the fire, Sandalphon had already lost interest in them, not having spotted the rest of the family. And curiously, not Aziraphale (his own personal, fine tuned quirk of demonic camouflage. Subtlety and all that. Only worked for certain distances unfortunately.) They had escaped. That was… That was what mattered.

A safe distance away, the two of them settled on top of a hill. The city below them smoldered and smoked, death thick on the wind. The family had briefly discussed plans to go to the nearby town of Zoar before leaving, not daring to look back now on their cinder of a home. They were a wreck now knowing their daughter had fallen, but regardless, before they left, they tearily thanked their saviors.

Neither said anything for a very long time. The sun rose fully, and the other angels disappeared. It was quiet. 

Finally, Aziraphale cleared his throat around the guilt and grime he felt had built up. “We couldn’t have saved them all.” He paused, and before Jahaziel could argue (which he was planning on doing,) he continued. “We didn’t have the time to try.” 

Jahaziel knew this. He _knew_ this, and still he slammed his fist on the ground in frustration. As hard as he would have liked to in the tavern, causing a small tremor and sending sand and dirt into the air briefly. The pain he felt in his hand was nothing compared to the pain he felt in his heart. “I know.” His words were hushed, broken; coming through clenched teeth. He stared at the small divot he created in the earth. They couldn’t have cleansed an entire city. Sin wasn’t skin deep. It would have taken weeks. Months. Time they didn’t have. Well… rather, time Heaven elected not to waste.

Once again, he wanted to cry. Spending time with the humans like this, getting to know them, their loves and their faults and their - well. Everything that made them who they were. What they were. _Human._ It scored him, knowing they had perished simply for existing and enjoying the life that God had given them. If his faith had taken a beating before, it tapped out now. He could not do this anymore.

Hesitantly, the demon reached out, placing his hand over the angel’s that throbbed on the ground. Despite its shaking, his own gentle grasp was steadfast. He didn’t stand for this either. And more than anything in those moments, he wanted Jahaziel to know that. It didn’t matter where they came from, or where they were presently. They were in this together now, thicker than the rivalry between those they reported to. However cold his heart may have gotten as the city burned, it warmed as the angel turned his hand over to grasp the demon’s.

They sat in silence again for quite some time, holding hands like that; watching as the last of the sturdy city fell, eaten away by righteous flame. 

It was Aziraphale who broke the silence once more. “Thank you. For letting me help you.” 

Jahaziel gave him a difficult look and wished he had anything left in him to keep the bitterness out of his words. But it was quiet, weak. He held no animosity towards the demon. He was just… so tired. “To spite your boss?” 

The demon wrinkled his nose. “Quite frankly, my dear. I would have helped you no matter who seemed to think they owned my allegiance. This was…” It was exactly the type of thing he had come to expect from Heaven, even since the Beginning. It was what Jahaziel had feared, and put into words so plainly for him. It was the fight he would come to spend his entire life being a soldier in. The stakes were high, but… “This was personal.” He nodded to himself, glancing over at the angel. “It should be, don’t you think?”

“What? Personal?” The angel met and held his gaze for a long moment before looking over the ruined city again. Everything he had been brought up to believe told him the Almighty knew exactly what she was doing. Every blade of grass, every drop of water. Taking it personally meant that the two of them were going against the very grain they had been raised and conditioned to follow. Free thinking was a dangerous thing. It was a _human_ thing. 

But they were doing it together. 

“If it happens again…” Jahaziel began, subconsciously squeezing the demon’s hand, “what will you do?” 

Aziraphale closed his eyes, taking a breath and smelling the ash in the air. He felt momentarily shamed for enjoying the affection but largely ignored it. He instead focused on the anger he felt. The wrath that pulsed quietly within Jahaziel’s heart, slowly infecting the righteousness that hummed throughout his form. He focused on what he could do to prevent it from doing more harm than good. “I’d like to think I could help again.”

“Yeah?” Hope fringed the angel’s words. He gave the barest hint of a smile. “To spite your boss?”

The demon chuckled, a handsome little sound, nodding again. “To spite my boss. And because, like I said. It’s the right thing to do.”

It amazed Jahaziel that Aziraphale, this _demon_ , had a moral compass that aligned with his own. Still, after everything. When Aziraphale had every reason to be against him, he stood by him. He had in Egypt, and he did now.

Aziraphale let some time pass, allowing the angel to reflect on that. Eventually he looked at him out of the corner of his eye, cautious. “What about _your_ boss, Jahaziel?” Aziraphale knew that Jahaziel wasn’t exactly in a position for direct defiance. Especially not after this stunt. Though, curiously, nothing had happened. Sandalphon hadn’t followed up, neither had Michael. He dared to wonder if it was because the two of them were as insignificant as they may have felt in their helplessness in saving the city. It almost seemed naive to think it so, but looking at the evidence...

“Hasn’t stopped me yet. Though I suppose I hadn’t exactly expected a cloud of acid rain to appear above our heads specifically.” Eyes lifted, as if the suggestion would have given the Almighty a splendid idea. “Just to be sure, though. Might be best we… keep things quiet. Quieter.” It would have been a moment to unlock their hands, but he was enjoying the comforting touch far more than he cared to admit as well.

“Quite so.” Working together in secret wasn’t something the demon had anticipated, but he found himself rather looking forward to the idea. If only because, selfishly, it would give him more opportunities to spend time with the angel. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to help humans, and giving both Heaven _and_ Hell a run for their money was a splendid errand. He just. Perhaps. Wanted a reason to smile himself. 

His nose wrinkled though, after a moment’s thought. “Azzy.” It sounded foreign on his tongue. “ _Azzy._ ”

To his surprise, Jahaziel laughed. “You don’t like it?”

“I--” Flustered, Aziraphale sputtered a bit, shaking his head. “It’s just. Out of _all_ the parts of my name--”

Jahaziel just kept laughing. “I think it suits you. It’s short and sweet. Snazzy.” The angel gasped softly, brows lofting as he gave him a look that was entirely too pleased. “Snazzy Azzy.”

The demon pinched his brow with his free hand, groaning wearily. “ _Please._ ”

But it wasn’t long after that he gave into mirth, and the laughter of two hopeless supernaturals filled the empty, rocky hills around them.


	4. Chapter 4

As luck would have it, God-related disasters did not involve Jahaziel after the burning of those two cities. Disasters would follow, definitely involving more burning, but the easing back of Heaven’s influence on them was a welcome improvement. 

It was indeed naive to think their actions would have no impact or consequence. It just took longer to see the results. Jahaziel was stripped of his decorated title, demoting him back to where he started, and the angel wasn’t complaining. Sure, it did mean more tightly controlled miracle budgets again, but he was glad to be back on the sidelines.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, had gotten somewhat of a promotion. Hastur had been near enough to feel the demonic power unleashed in order to blind that horde of men, and he’d brought it up when they returned to Hell. It wasn’t as though Aziraphale was going to tell him the truth, so he made up a fantastical story involving those men in some kind of scripture reading. Taking their sight away in their last hours seemed like the ultimate torture, he reasoned disinterestedly to Hastur. It had evidently impressed the demon so much that he wanted to recommend Aziraphale for human soul torture in the Sixth. (Sixth Circle of Hell, that is.) Aziraphale tightly declined, taking the avenue of more political responsibility just to get the duke off his back. But that was now how he found himself, over 1000 years later, standing on the deck of one of Caesar's ships heading for the enemy fleet at Alexandria. 

It had also been how he found himself in Alexander the Great’s personal council when the actual city was _founded._ The decisions of that young man’s entire life felt largely like Aziraphale’s fault. And they probably were, especially the conquering bits. He was expected to lead the boy into depravity, but he ended up encouraging the somewhat ignored child. Encouraging him _too much_. He’d built up the boy’s self-confidence and ambition for the world so greatly that Alexander believed himself a demi-god at some point, (definitely not helped by the fact that Aziraphale magically kept him from harm.) Everything seemed further perpetuated by his best friend Haphaestion. Aziraphale _swore_ the older boy had a quantifiable, supernatural sway over Alexander that couldn’t be classified as demonic, but that was all a story for another time. 

Alexander later created an empire that would be remembered for all time and died far too young. Aziraphale had been lauded in Hell for Alexander’s armies indiscriminately killing and taking over kingdoms by force. But the Underworld also couldn’t do much with a self-deluded, prideful soul once they had him. So the whole thing was declared a wash, really. Just as well. The demon hadn’t really done much to encourage the _armies,_ finding them rather adept at doing their job without his interference. No, Alexander himself was the target of his grooming, and even then it had only been some… small, “miraculous” pep talks. For all the good it did for Hell. (He considered that a private, personal win.)

Beelzebub themself handed Aziraphale this new job, however. Convincing Caesar to set fire to the Greek armies seemed somewhat… arbitrary. But he didn’t argue and barely spoke to Caesar himself beyond the key advising. The pitch had been simple yet evidently handsome enough to Caesar. Aziraphale mainly just made sure no one was on the moored ships when the flaming catapults started firing.

When the ruler and his closer subjects weren’t looking at him, Aziraphale transported himself discreetly to a shady spot on the city streets. He winced as he watched the wood splintering and exploding from incoming fireballs, flames licking the sails and spreading by wind from one boat to the next down the docks.

A grimace and groan came from his side. “Am I going to need to dive into the water to save poor unfortunate sods today?” A frustrated _ach_ was heard. “I just got this robe.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened behind his new half moon, dark blue tinted glasses. He saw Jahaziel standing at his side, and the demon’s face lit up. For a moment the chaos around them didn’t exist. He couldn’t explain the feeling he got when Jahaziel stepped up to him, or why it delighted him so much. It was just so good to see him again, after so long. The angel’s hair was cropped short now in the messy Grecian fashion of the time, and he wore a loose, steel grey robe with golden stitching on the hems. A clasp made of a silver snake’s head sat at his shoulder, and he looked positively _wealthy._ The demon had to wonder just _what_ , exactly, he’d been up to. And even though the ships were burning in front of them, Aziraphale’s gaze briefly drifted to the angel’s exposed shoulder and just a hint of his ribs under that. He turned back to the fire, ready to explain away the color in his cheeks as a result of the boat’s heat if need be. He cleared his throat. “No, actually. No one happened to man the boats today. Or stand guard.”

Jahaziel’s smirk shone in Aziraphale’s peripheral vision. “Real miracle that one.” He smiled fully at the side of the demon’s face, who could practically feel the warmth from it without even looking over. Jahaziel was… Well, he supposed he ceased being _surprised_ by Aziraphale’s actions some centuries ago. The demon truly proved there was more than one way to skin a cat - the cat, in this instance, was ‘be Hellish in some way, shape, or form’. But the only way Aziraphale had been Hellish this whole time was merely… going against Heaven. It seemed the ideal way to help Hell. Nevermind that the consequences of his actions were so… perfectly _good._ It was simply the greatest loophole, and Aziraphale chose to exploit it. With him. He wiggled his fingers at his own eyes after a moment. “Nice shades.”

Aziraphale smiled pleasantly. “Ah, the veil got too troublesome to manage. And it didn’t quite fit in with the style anymore. No use sticking out like a sore thumb, hm?” He debated momentarily, then decided to go for it. “Nice… Er. Accoutrements. You seem to be doing well for yourself.” The demon himself was dressed fairly simple in an effort to blend in. Grecian robes of a similar style, but less of a status symbol were draped around his form and clasped comfortably, dyed an easy-on-the-eyes dark cream. 

A lazy sort-of grin crossed Jahaziel’s face, and he waved a hand almost dismissively. “I’m rather _liked_ , I suppose. And I like the flash of it all.” He winked, and it did very nice things to the features of his face, which Aziraphale appreciated for a moment longer than he ought to have. Though the demon’s features fell as his gaze was distracted upwards, catching streaks of orange and yellow reaching through the sky. Eyes tracked down the street, and his mouth fell open. Hands unclasping themselves as he moved around the angel to try and get a better look.

“Oh… Oh, oh no.” Hurried steps took him a little more than half a block, and he felt the angel hot on his heels. “This is--” he panted, not stopping, “oh, I didn’t _think--_ Why didn’t I _**think--**_ ”

“Think about _what_ , Azzy?” Jahaziel hadn’t noticed anything wrong other than the already burning ships, so the demon’s sudden haste and worry put him on high alert. If _Aziraphale_ was worried, he had more than enough reason to follow suit.

The demon didn’t stop or reply until they were two blocks from where they had met, nearly doubled over in an effort to catch his breath. Oh, he didn’t have _time_ for this. He didn’t have time to be exhausted. When he straightened a moment later, his voice was miserable. “The _library._ ”

The angel’s rushed footsteps stopped as Aziraphale did, and he recovered far quicker, eyes lifting to the large building they had ended up near. He recognized it instantly, though he didn’t remember the roof being on fire the last time he’d seen it. The wind had carried the flames from the ships to the shore, igniting the rooftop of the library of Alexandria. The demon had been so preoccupied with making sure no one was on the ships to be injured, he hadn’t taken something as simple as _the weather_ into consideration. To his credit, Jahaziel wouldn’t have either.

Turning around quickly, Aziraphale’s hands grasped Jahaziel’s shoulders, a profound pain and sorrow in his eyes. Even with the tinted lenses the angel could see the second set too; intense, frightened, and crying. His thoughts were momentarily transported back to Gomorrah, and even back to Egypt, thinking how he himself must have looked similar. 

The demon took in a rather short breath, as if keeping even more emotion at bay. “The people - the _tomes_ , Jahaziel--” 

Under normal circumstances, the relationship between an angel and a demon would lead to very specific conversations about what was right, and what was wrong. Jahaziel had every given opportunity to explain very plainly to Aziraphale that the fire which would inevitably consume the library of Alexandria was his fault entirely - if he hadn’t been inherently vile by nature, hadn’t convinced Caesar to rain fire on the Greek armies, hadn’t _fallen in the first place_ , perhaps this wouldn’t have happened. His precious tomes wouldn’t burn, and he wouldn’t have to carry the weight of the lives lost here for all eternity. He certainly had carried that fascination with human tales and knowledge and lessons in written form for many centuries. And now, maybe it was _his_ turn to learn a lesson.

But that wasn’t the case at all. These were very abnormal circumstances. And while it still may have been Aziraphale’s fault, Jahaziel knew in his heart hurting people and losing knowledge were two of the very last things the demon would ever want to do. He truly didn’t have it in him. He had made sure the ships were _empty_ when to any normal demon, it wouldn’t have mattered at all. It wasn’t as much owing Aziraphale a favor that guided his next actions. It was the same page they had been on for centuries, of helping one another when it was needed for a good greater than them both.

He quickly grabbed the demon’s arms, looking him dead in the eyes - both sets, somehow - and nodding hurriedly. “Of course. Aziraphale, of _course._ ” 

They wasted no further time after that, tearing up to the entrance and bursting through the doors. The angel amplified his voice to echo through the entirety of the building. A small enough miracle - maybe no one Upstairs would notice.

“Citizens! The library roof is on fire!” Shocked gasps precluded a tense silence, and Jahaziel left little time for confusion. “Everyone take what you are holding and get out, quick as you can. There isn’t much time!”

As Jahaziel rushed around to move the citizens out faster, Aziraphale hurriedly browsed through stacks and shelves, pulling things out of them he thought more precious than others. It was of little use. He was panicking, and couldn’t read the titles very well. This one looked especially old, this one had gilded pages. His considerations turned purely aesthetic; the scrolls that looked oldest or the most expensive ended up tucked under his arm, and then folded into the front of his garb as it served as a makeshift pouch. There were _so many._

Despite their best efforts, not everyone could be saved. The building, collapsing around them, held little care for the fool’s errand they put themselves on. The citizens that managed to escape had scurried away, stealing with them precious handfuls of intimate knowledge that would inevitably get lost to time anyway. Aziraphale and Jahaziel lost quite a few humans to the architecture folding in on itself, and sections upon sections of literature suffered the same fate.

Burned, bruised, and panting, the two managed to get a few blocks away after the bulk of it all, sitting in the pile of scrolls they were able to save. Among them were a number of quite rare things Jahaziel had picked up, and Aziraphale sat next to a small jumble of astronomy scrolls. His eyes burned. It wasn’t just the fire.

“How could I have been so careless…” He removed his glasses, wiping under the first set of eyes, and then the second. Ash smeared his face, mingled with tears, and he did little to hide them at first. Their hearts broke in tandem for one another. Jahaziel for the demon, as his actions caused a blow to humanity that it would spend countless centuries recovering from. And Aziraphale for the angel, as he truly considered that now, even on a smaller scale, he felt the repercussions of his involvement that came about simply by following orders. It was a miserable affair, and they suffered in silence as they had before: surrounded by ash and death.

He felt a hand on his back, looking up at the angel and quickly sliding his glasses back onto his face. He hadn’t needed to; Jahaziel knew precisely what was going on, but he wasn’t about to condemn him for trying to remain resolute in the face of… something like this. He had done similarly himself, outside of the ruins of Gommorrah, keeping his cards close to his chest. Despite sharing viewpoints, he figured it important to allow them both the ability to hide just how much these things actually _hurt_ them. It was the very least they could do for each other.

Kneeling, Jahaziel caught the demon’s eye just before waving a hand over most of the pile of tomes. They vanished to the bedroom floor of the place he was staying. “I’ll keep them safe at mine. ‘Til you, yanno. Find a new place to keep them all.”

Clearing his throat of residual tightness, Aziraphale remembered the astronomy scrolls at his right. “Oh and er. Could you take these as well?” There were seven thin folded scrolls and three rolled ones below them. He didn’t mention what they were, though he wanted to. It didn’t really seem the time. Jahaziel could look on their contents or not if he wished. The tomes were wholly important to the world at large, not a vehicle to make Aziraphale feel better by seeing the angel’s face light up. Somehow that kind of thing seemed selfish in light of how much knowledge and lives had just been lost. 

They stood after that, Aziraphale gently squeezing Jahaziel’s upper arm. He promised to find him once he located a suitable place to store the scrolls, but Aziraphale was going to need to do some hefty research. He didn’t have a permanent residence anywhere yet. No place had seemed right, therefore no place was safer than with the only other being on earth he trusted.

It wasn’t a moment after the demon had left that Jahaziel felt an angelic presence behind him. Without turning he lifted his chin, greeting said presence with a cool tone that did everything to hide what the last few emotionally charged minutes had done to him. “Uriel.” 

“Jahaziel.” The returned greeting was just as cool, if not outrightly cold. The lesser archangel narrowed their eyes at the back of Jahaziel’s head, their nose flaring. They were dressed in simple white local wares, their usual golden face scales hidden. This was far from the first time they’d encountered each other. Since Uriel oversaw the outflow of Heaven’s power for miracles, they’d made sure to keep tight budgets on those that abused it. Or lost their status in _any way_ due to inaction. At first it had been one of their underlings checking in on him, but it had eventually become Uriel themself. They clearly didn’t trust or care much for Jahaziel, and the feeling was staunchly mutual. “Just checking in.” 

Jahaziel didn’t believe this fully, but he chalked up the suspicion to the fact that a building was very much on fire, a demonic presence was surely still felt despite the source being gone, and he’d just been using miracles in a place that he hadn’t been assigned. His nerves, unsettled as they were, probably accounted for much more than he’d care to let them. “Mmhm.”

“Library’s on fire, I see,” Uriel said blandly, a current of ever-present suspicion hidden under it all. “Care to explain?”

Jahaziel sighed, turning around as he gestured at the library. “Wind from the sails. There was nothing I could do.” And, for good measure, “best not to interfere anyway, hm? The Almighty works in mysterious ways. Who knows _what_ could have been in those scrolls.” He took in a breath through his teeth, brows lofted, look that of someone considering the ramifications of letting info get into the wrong hands. “Better we let this information go. Humans can get so _nosy_ , wouldn’t you agree? Learning things like it’s their place to. _Questioning_ things. Might have been a right stroke of luck. Saved us a little manpower in the long run.” It would set them back centuries, of this he was convinced. More power for Heaven to influence over them, replace what they had learned in their minds with righteousness rather than reason. 

Uriel’s expression didn’t change even a little from arrow-sharp suspicion. “Have you been talking to Human Affairs? Or are you just a good liar?”

Cold fear twinging his body for a moment, Jahaziel forced himself not to look surprised. It was so blatantly a test, like the many other times Uriel had tried to get something out of him. He knew how this worked by now. The realization that Uriel mentioned Human Affairs meant that this was _in fact_ something that wasn’t random chance. Righteousness rather than reason, indeed. The first couple times Uriel had tested him like this, Jahaziel had wheedled his way out of it by “heavenly” logic and good guessing alone. Uriel was accurately paranoid, but they always made the mistake of being _completely_ confrontational and giving away exactly what they thought. If they were smarter, they would have tried gaining his confidence first in order to suss out the truth. Jahaziel was eternally grateful they weren’t smarter. Or more personable.

So he made a show of jutting his lower lip out for a moment, mumbling hesitantly. “Ah. Well. Hezron didn’t tell me if it was er… common knowledge yet.” He shook his head slowly, putting together his lie. ”Thought they’d go about this a different way.”

Lips thinned, Uriel could barely keep their scowl from spreading to their mouth. “They didn’t. I believe their plan was… what originally? To have it ransacked or destroyed by tsunami? But.” They looked up at the smoke curling into the sky. “I’m sure you already knew that. By the smell of it, the enemy got to this one by accident before we did. Unless. Well. Unless they were tipped off. Beat us to it so it’d cause despair for their side instead.”

Easily shaking his head again, this time with a forced laugh, Jahaziel squinted at the archangel. He set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Really? You--” he made a gesture between himself and them. “You think I’d do something like that?” He really wanted to point out the fact that several humans had just _bloody died_ , and this was what the other angel decided to focus on? But this was _definitely_ not the place or person for it. Uriel’s logic was _so flimsy_ , but he knew better than to attack that part of it.

Any false pretense of politeness vanished as did the last of Uriel’s patience. “I _know_ you would. The forces of darkness are all over, but their stink follows you like sickening perfume _every time_. Gabriel calls you unorthodox, but no one spends _this_ much time among the mortals and has so little to show for it.”

“Oi!” He frowned, his jaw dropping a little. “I don’t care for what you’re implying, but you can accuse me all day. I have nothing to hide. I am _productive_. No one can argue that, alright? Ever heard of the… the the…” He waved his hand at them in a circle, trying to think of something he’d actually _done_ that was entirely beneficial. Ah! ”Roman Aqueduct? One dinner with the city planner, and oh look at that! Revolutionized their entire way of life in a single month for the better!”

“It is _exactly things like that_ where Human Affairs and I have to get involved!” When Jahaziel waved them off, Uriel hardened their voice further. “We _can’t_ have humanity knowing too much before the end! They advance too fast, and Armageddon sets off before the Divine Plan mandates it. ‘There shall be a world, it shall last for _six thousand_ years, and it shall end in fire and flame.’ Six thousand, Jahaziel. Not four or five. _Six._ Or have you forgotten that? Like you conveniently _forgot_ to help Michael incinerate those cities?”

Jahaziel’s laissez-faire attitude faded into something sharper. He looked down his nose at them, the corner of his upper lip twitching. “No need to get tetchy. Mistakes happen. Even holy ones.”

“Yes.” They looked him up and down pointedly. “They do.” A light sneer tightened their golden painted mouth and eyes. “You’re playing games angels shouldn’t play. I know you are. I _will_ catch you at it, be it a hundred days or decades from now. I am _watching_ you.”

They vanished from reality, and Jahaziel couldn’t have honestly been less intimidated. The first time, maybe. The second, wary. But Uriel had nothing. They were an over-glorified guard dog - always had been, even before earth. All bark, no bite. They had suspicions only, no proof. Jahaziel would keep it that way until the bitter end, for his and Aziraphale’s sakes.


	5. Chapter 5

Uriel’s watchful eye and the inability to use miracles would get Jahaziel into trouble many times over the centuries to come. As such, he generally tried to avoid certain circumstances, unless favorable company was around. The Trojan War, Napoleon, and then Transylvania in the 13th century--all of them had involved both him and Aziraphale poking about in some way or another. Jahaziel was still proud of the horse bit, and Aziraphale couldn’t have been more pleased they got so many people out of the chopping block line. It became something of a routine but never the same, and it was always exciting being together. Jahaziel had come to rely on Aziraphale’s presence, as well as the intrigue and adventure that followed the two of them around.

Recently however, things had been relatively quiet around the world. Jahaziel didn’t mix well with quiet. Or still. He found himself passing night upon night staring at the same star clusters through one of the Royal Observatory telescopes. It would be many more years before the high power ones the size of small buildings would be invented, but Jahaziel still thought they were brilliant devices. Creative use of lenses and human ingenuity invented _just_ to get a better look at the things they didn’t understand. Admirable, really. He could see the technology carrying them far in the future. As much as he liked his new home at the Observatory, he wasn’t given to long hours of study. His leg rabbit-hopped under his desk in his study on a cool November evening, circa 1789, nothing really holding his attention well enough to keep him busy. He craved variety, as always, and he found himself missing the earlier days of earth, no more than a nondescript wiseman wandering the world.

Aziraphale had occasionally thought the same thing. Hastur and his new assistant Ligur had been asking why his soul count had gotten so low. Nonexistent, as Ligur had supplied. Strapped for ideas at the time, Aziraphale said he acquired a lovely little building some one hundred years prior. He pitched them a tall tale that he’d been working on creating a false front for a church. The two had _certainly_ liked the irony of a priest leading people to Hell. But this also meant Azriaphale had to go about _actually procuring_ a church on unconsecrated grounds. Much easier said than done, as he’d learned. It ended up being a simple library in Blackfriars, London, one of the very first. But instead of doing any actual anti-preaching, he spent most of his free time collecting rare knowledge to fill the once sad little library to capacity and then some. Even a hundred years later, he’d still never had Jahaziel in. He never could get the disarray to look quite presentable, and he wanted the old Alexandria tomes to be a centerpiece somehow. But every time he had an opportunity, he simply couldn’t get around to it.

The angel certainly could have used the distraction about now though, because he was about to do something awfully ill-advised. Jahaziel pulled out his rarely used, Heaven-issued tablet and drew in a few runes. The world news filtered directly into his mind like morning fog, giving him every major good deed and bad deed that had the potential to be persuaded in the right direction. A great deal of them were coming from _Japan_ of all places, he noticed. Apparently the shoguns were taking great offense to the fact that the Ainu didn’t want to submit to them in Hokkaido. And, naturally, rebellion had broken out. Jahaziel knew he should really care more about stopping that kind of conflict, but perhaps too much time with Aziraphale had encouraged his more selfish, indulgent nature. He was suddenly intrigued to go for an entirely different reason.

One teleport request, outfit change, and attempted discussion with an Ainu village elder later, Jahaziel was met with the literal spear-tipped point of remembrance that Japan had a travel ban going on. Anyone non-Japanese could be executed on sight or cut down before getting to shore. As such, the Ainu threw him in prison to await his impending execution. 

Of course, normally, his first course of action would have been to miracle himself out. He shouldn’t be in this situation in the first place, as he was _certain_ Uriel or their lackeys would say. Any other angel worth their salt would have camouflaged themselves better when coming here. The plain, embarrassing answer was that he’d _utterly forgotten_ about the travel ban. He couldn’t have Miracle Budgeting seeing his request for escape, because it was _certain_ to make his miracle allowance that much tighter. He just had to _think_.

Heel of his palm thunked against his forehead in a gentle, steady rhythm as he attempted to do just that. He knew he wasn’t in any intensely immediate danger - had they planned on getting rid of him in a more expedited way they would have foregone the formality of throwing him into prison and simply _poked_ him to death with the pointy spears they’d shoved in his face. (For all the good it would have done, though he supposed Gabriel, or Uriel at the very least, would have had _something_ to say about such an idiotic way of being discorporated.) No, he had a moment or two to spare. He just needed to use them wisely.

Going up to the prison door window, he attempted some awful Japanese to get a guard’s attention. He’d tried to learn the language some eight hundred years ago, but plans fell through. There were just so much more interesting things to devote his time to. He figured he’d get to it sooner or later. (Joke was on him, it seemed.) Eventually, a guard did come over, slamming his door window to shut him up. The angel jumped a little, scowling.

Before the guard walked away again, Jahaziel stuck his hand out of the window. “Wait! Wait! There has been a mistake,” he said in English, switching haltingly over to Japanese and repeating himself. “ _Here for star art. No war._ ” _God_ , he felt left-footed. He didn’t know how else to explain he was there for ancient Ainu artifacts regarding the supernova of 1190. All he wanted were the artifacts. And there was all this fuss! He’d just never gotten around to coming here until now!

The guard frowned at him, hesitating before firing back, “ _You’re English. You know you aren’t supposed to be here. How the hell did you even get this far into Japan without being killed?_ ” Before Jahaziel could really understand everything he said or answer, the guard sneered and continued, “ _No matter. You’ll die tomorrow. Your own fault. Stupid man._ ” Something distinct shifted in the guard’s eyes as he no longer focused on Jahaziel but something in the middle distance. His features softened - slackened, really, brow creasing as he spoke. “ _Stupid man… yes. I--I know the feeling. I’ve done stupid things. Lost my inheritance. My father’s farm. Gave up my marriage. Oh god. Why am I even here?_ ” His footing staggered, hand coming to his forehead, wiping hair up and out of his eyes. _”Why am I here… I had it so good. My wife--”_ Gaze turned towards Jahaziel again. He may have been looking in the angel’s direction, but his eyes and thoughts were miles away. _“I loved her…”_

To the angel’s utter confusion, the guard crumpled onto the ground, muttering more shortcomings to himself. Jahaziel was about to make some kind of awkward attempt at consoling his jailer when the air shifted in the prison. He felt a distracting flicker of love (most likely from the inexplicably heartsick jailer), but he ignored it for the moment. His sense for love and such feelings worked when it didn’t have to, and it had become something he adjusted for. Couldn’t be distracted by things like that when he was busy working. Or trying to get himself out of _jail._ He flicked his tongue out once, smelling what was becoming one of his favorite smells in the world. Sweets, exotic spices, sunlight, and an ever dwindling smell of sulphur underneath it all. A wide grin broke out on his face, and he looked about his cell to see Aziraphale standing behind him. “Aziraphale.” His voice was warm. Relieved. He hadn’t been expecting a miracle, really, but even if this did end up being the way he was swooshed off to Heaven to be re-issued another body he could say his last hours were spent with the only other person on this earth he considered a friend. A good friend, even. Close one. ...Best? (Only, really, if he stopped to consider it.) 

...And then he did consider it, for a moment, looking at the demon. The demon Aziraphale, that he’d known for so long now. 5789 years, to be exact. Not quite to the day, it was about a month too late for that, but who was counting? Across the cell, it was his turn to admire the fabrics in which his companion had draped himself in. It… looked… quite ridiculous, if he had to put a word on it. But ridiculous seemed to be what kept the demon from being behind _bars,_ so he would probably do well not to ridicule it _too_ much. His kamishimo was entirely appropriate. (Jahaziel would not learn that this is what it was referred to as until some years later.) The kataginu was dyed a rich brown colour, and the hakama beneath it was a tint the angel had come to closely associate with the demon - an almost greyish cream. In comparison, the angel’s clothes were outdated by a good 700 years, but his glasses were of the latest circular style, tinted red. Just dark enough to hide his slitted pupils, but light enough to still be inviting.

Jahaziel smiled at him still, despite the situation at hand. Rather a sticky one, unfortunately. He was just. _Bah._ He was happy to see him. Their meetings thus far had always been for work, really. And while he would treasure all the times they’d worked side by side until the last star burned out, he wished… Maybe… They could have more. He wanted more. Should he have? No, he supposed not. It was wrong on too many fronts, and he’d have shamed himself for thinking it had Aziraphale not decided to break the tense seconds of silence with a smile returned that made _something_ stir behind the angel’s breastbone. 

“It seems a bit backwards, doesn’t it?”

Jahaziel blinked, the fond smile fading into confusion. “S-sorry?”

“You being the one behind bars.” Aziraphale looked around the cell, nose wrinkling a little bit. Even behind the new tinted lenses he was wearing, Jahaziel could see how the second set of eyes squinted just a bit with the action. And really, he had come to be rather enamored with them. Despite knowing what they could do. “Really now, I would have thought you to have better taste.”

The demon liked the sheepish little laugh that left the angel, giving a knowing grin. A part of Aziraphale had to wonder if Jahaziel had gotten himself in trouble on purpose just to see if he could get the demon to come rescue him. The idea charmed him, and he chuckled. 

“I--” The angel began to argue, huffing quietly. “I wanted something.” Admitting it made the tops of his ears burn. “I didn’t really… _prepare_ for this trip.”

The demon’s brows lofted, giving a lightly incredulous look. “You _wanted_ something? What could possibly be worth this?” The war itself notwithstanding. Aziraphale would have considered the angel to be a bit more covert in trying to amend something as grand as a conflict like this. Furthermore, had that been the reason, he may have even felt a little slighted that Jahaziel hadn’t enlisted his help. It only added more fuel to the tiny fire of wondering if he’d gotten into trouble just to summon him, but he knew the redhead was much smarter than that. (Or, at least, he hoped.)

Jahaziel folded his arms, leaning against the wall of his cell with a sigh. “They have artifacts about a supernova. Detailed - _really_ intricate things.”

“And you suspected they’d just… Give them to you?” Aziraphale knew angels had some form of influence over humanity, but… “That just seems presumptuous.”

It sounded rather stupid when it was someone _else_ narrating his ideas. Especially Aziraphale. “I thought... I could maybe convince them somehow. That they’d be in better hands.” The angel lifted his own hands helplessly, then rubbed his face with them, groaning. “This is going to be a certain hell to explain, I’m sure.” He pushed off the wall, pacing around the cell like an animal. “I just got _bored_.” 

“And you didn’t come to find me? I’m hurt. Idle hands, and all that,” the demon teased. 

Jahaziel scowled gently. “Idle hands and all that are right. Look where I ended up.” He paused for a moment, staring at him with a scrutinous gaze. It wasn’t as if he was actually _upset_ with Aziraphale. Quite the opposite, actually. He held no animosity towards the demon and never _had_. Never would, foreseeably. The angel was just frustrated. He wanted those artifacts. He wanted excitement. 

He fell silent then, looking at the cell floor, feeling some brand of terrible as he realized that was almost an idle wish that something _horrendous_ would happen to humanity again so the two of them would need to rescue it. He craved that chaos. More than that, he craved the rush of adrenaline and that extra little _something_ he couldn’t quite put his finger on that he got whenever he and Aziraphale did something particularly hijinks-y. (Was it blasphemous to call Heaven-related incidents “hijinks”? He’d have to double check that later.)

Aziraphale sensed something a little off in the room, and went for a distraction. “Guard seems to have worked himself up enough.” He gently stroked the metal of the large lock in the door, and a distinct _click_ echoed through the cell. Door was opened with a soft creaking, and he smiled up at Jahaziel. “Shall we, then?”

The angel looked to the open door, then the guard, then back to the demon. “You did that, then?” He recalled just a few moments ago, the guard’s gaze glazing over and him running his mouth about the life he left behind. Jahaziel’s brows knit gently. “You made him panic.” So it stood to reason… “Are - are _you_ the cause of all this unrest here…?”

The accusation, rather than offend Aziraphale, made him laugh. “Oh, my dear. I’m quite flattered, but we both know humans are perfectly capable of causing their own unrest.” Jahaziel recalled the comment about his keen observational skills, and the warmth from his ears trickled to the tops of his cheeks. “I’ve barely lifted a finger for two centuries.” 

It was true. Humanity had mastered the art of poking fun at each other to the point of petty squabbles that turned into wars. He’d seen it, and he was sure Jahaziel had too. (He may’ve had a hand here and there in causing some form of mild chaos, though it had been only at his suggestion. Humans wove a pleasant tapestry of trouble for themselves with a basic idea, and the rest generally was, quite literally, history.) Though he couldn’t blame the angel for drawing that conclusion - it was logical, all things considered. Despite their camaraderie, something like this _was_ perfectly in line with Hell’s handbook. He preferred to keep it that way. Made him seem more productive, and Jahaziel all the more attractive to Heaven for ‘attempting’ to thwart it. Whenever the opportunity arose. And they happened to notice. Which wasn’t often. 

It was also the basis for the whole _church_ business Aziraphale had been working on. Reforming demons seemed to be a lucrative avenue from the inside. From the outside, he only appeared to be leading humans further astray, filling their minds with all the terrible things humanity did to itself to prove it wasn’t worth it to try and stay on the path of righteousness. It was all particularly brilliant, if he did say so himself, and felt no small sense of pride. But now wasn’t the time for that; he could gloat later. (And he would.)

Satisfied by the response, and believing him wholly, Jahaziel nodded. “Suppose it is getting rather stuffy in here, eh?” Some of the nerves left him, and he grinned, stepping towards the door. “The first time you come to mine, and it’s in a _state_ like this. Is my face ever _red.”_

Jahaziel may have professed to his face being red, but it was the demon that felt heat tint his cheeks instead. The forwardness of the angel’s tease catapulted him back to Egypt; Aziraphale inviting him for drinks with a little sprinkle of coyness he hadn’t really ever felt he needed before. He’d never felt anyone to be coy _with_. 

“There we are… Easy now.” Jahaziel was helping the guard up into a sit when the demon came back to the present. The man now leaned back against an empty cell nearby. He started up at the angel with glassy, unfocused eyes, whimpering. The redhead hushed him gently. “You will sleep sweetly tonight and wake up with your priorities in order tomorrow.” A hand on top of his head put the guard into a different, trance-like state, and once he was out, Jahaziel hummed. “You’ll also learn to sympathize with your fellow man more. And you will not call foreigners stupid. That was _very_ rude.” 

The pair slipped from the prison, shrouded in the dead of night. Jahaziel kept close to the demon as he led the way through the halls, and he could only guess it was because he had some sort of specialized hellish vision for seeing in near total darkness.

Aziraphale did not mind the proximity as he weaved in and around the simple, dimly lit buildings of the village just outside the jail. He grabbed Jahaziel’s wrist at one point to stop him from stepping out into torchlight of coming guards. The angel was practically blind in the near pitch-blackness while on the move, and Aziraphale kept him closer still after that at risk of losing him or letting him fall behind.

The guards came to a stop right near where the two supernaturals were trying to hide, because _of course they did._ It forced Aziraphale to draw Jahaziel _very close_ behind a stack of animal traps next to a shop of probably similar wares. They smelled vaguely, and it hit the demon that they were freshly used. He grimaced. God—er, Lucifer, it reminded him of how Hell smelled.

It was the one and only thing distracting him from just how _damn close Jahaziel was._ Aziraphale had brought him up along his left side, hiding in the last of the shadow cast by the traps. Any closer and the angel would have probably needed to move his arm behind Aziraphale. Which the demon would not think about right now. At all. It wasn’t anywhere near the time for internal fantasy. He resolutely focused on the guards, about to snap some squabbling animals into existence down the muddy mainstreet.

Meanwhile, Jahaziel could have used that sort of resolution at the moment. His mind had gone unintentionally, curiously blank. It had never happened to him before. He _always_ had multiple streams of thought going on. Possibilities, worries, wonderings, theories, wants, etcetera. Everything else had shut off rather peculiarly, laser focused onto the physical. Aziraphale’s grip on his wrist. His knuckles brushing the angel’s robe-clad hip. Their shoulders and legs pressing against each other. That shade of excitement he’d been craving came back in a different, not at all unpleasant way. While he wasn’t unfamiliar with how such things worked in theory, he had not once expected to feel what human teenagers waxed romantic about so often. He wasn’t given to it and never had been. 

Until today, apparently. 

_Oh. Oh no. This is a bit not good,_ he realized silently, his wits slowly coming back to him as the guard’s torchlight flickered slightly closer. He hadn’t the faintest idea on how to deal with _this_ new slew of complications--certainly not _now._ What awful timing! They were ten feet from being skewered, and Aziraphale certainly had gone far out of his way to help prevent that. Now on the verge of mucking it up with physical consequences, he cursed himself under his breath.

The demon snapped his fingers, bringing them both away from their internal struggles into the present. The sound of two boars fighting erupted down the street. Their squealing and crashing about drew the guards thankfully away, allowing the two oddfellows to dash down the mainstreet in the opposite direction. 

“Little close for comfort,” Jahaziel found himself whispering in the dark. Not that he’d minded, but closeness was the entire problem. He hoped Aziraphale wouldn’t read into it. “Boars. Good idea, that.”

Far from a stranger to keeping his feelings under wraps, Aziraphale couldn’t help _but_ read into it. His cheeks heated up somewhat as they started approaching the edge of the village. Jahaziel probably meant the guards. Of course he meant the guards. There wasn’t any possible way he was thinking the same thing. He glanced back at Jahaziel. Was there? He laughed tightly. “Only thing I could think of.”

Jahaziel nodded in approval, knowing the demon could see it. He felt another flash of love before Aziraphale looked back at him, more of a whisper this time that was stifled out cruelly. Likely from someone in one of the houses on the outskirts. 

Their close call fading for the moment, they started up a little grassy rise a good distance from the edge of the village. They ran smack into someone wearing a lot of clunky armor. Aziraphale jolted back, unnerved that he hadn’t even seen the human. “ _Oh my,_ do watch where you’re...” When he fully focused on the man, he saw that there were more of them behind him. _A great deal more._ Samurai. “...going.”

Jahaziel couldn’t see who was there but he definitely heard the armor clang and felt the air close in on Aziraphale, much like it had in the family’s home in Sodom and Gomorrah. “Who’s there, Azzy?” he whispered.

The demon took a step back, grabbing Jahaziel’s hand. “Turn into a snake. Now.” When Jahaziel hesitated, about to ask why, Aziraphale abandoned any pretense of being subtle. “Jahaziel, _now!_ ”

No one but Aziraphale could really see. However, the samurai he’d banged into drew his sword lightning quick, accustomed to training blindfolded for sneak attacks like this very night. He only _barely_ missed Jahaziel’s tail as he was carried bodily off as a snake by Aziraphale’s mourning dove form. Any other dove wouldn’t have been able to lift more than a few twigs, but Aziraphale was the size of a great eagle in this form, easily able to carry his companion.

Jahaziel wrapped most of himself around Aziraphale’s legs and feet, his heart rabbiting. Confound it, he felt bloody _useless_! He could actually pose a fighting threat in this form. Not that he would permanently hurt anyone, but he was just dead weight now! 

To make matters worse, the lines of golden scales along his sides caught even the faintest starlight above and the guard’s torches on the street far away. Arrows soon began flying at them, whizzing and whistling through the air, getting too close.

“Oh for _Satan’s sake!_ ” exclaimed Aziraphale. “ _Honestly!_ ” His many eyes flashed blue down at the samurai. “Animals!”

Noting the glow, Jahaziel scrambled internally to think of something. He didn’t want Aziraphale having to resort to something that would affect the people below. He looked back down at where the arrows were coming from. He flicked the tip of his tail down at the army, sending his awareness down for anything flammable. The wood of the samurai’s arrows and bows set on fire, lighting the whole company up in a panic and ruining their element of surprise. (Barely a miracle, really. He’d just made the air around their gear hotter than a smelter.) It wasn’t two minutes later that the entire Ainu cavalry was awake and fighting the samurai. People fell, limbs sliced, and needless lives were lost in their wake.

Jahaziel looked back on the dwindling village, his heart aching at the death he could feel below. He took small comfort in the fact that maybe if they hadn’t been there, the Ainu would have been slaughtered. Now at least they had a fighting chance.

Once their safety was assured, the two of them assumed human forms again and caught their breath some miles away. Aziraphale had carried them to a highland that had a hint of the sea coming off the wind. Lighting a little lantern, Aziraphale flicked soreness in his hands and arms out from flying without any prep as a dove. “Well. I haven’t done _that_ in centuries.”

“What? Something monumentally idiotic?” Jahaziel couldn’t help but smile. He was alive, so was his dear friend, and he was _buzzing_ with that genuine adrenaline he didn’t know he needed so badly. That was something you just couldn’t miracle up. (You could, but his corporeal form annoyingly knew the difference.) “Ought to try it more often, I say.”

They both stared at each other for a moment before they began to laugh, stress rolling away into mirth, and both of them suddenly felt undeniably _wonderful_.

“Well now,” the demon breathed through his chuckles, straightening his garb and giving Jahaziel a pleased look with a twinkle in his eye, “I believe an escape like that calls for some form of celebration.” He paused a moment, eyes exploring space above them, then nodding distantly. “It appears there is a place not terribly far from here where we can get something fantastic to eat.”

Jahaziel, catching his own breath, shook his head. “Ohh. No. I don’t do that. Unnecessary. Messy, too. Mm. Pass.”

Aziraphale gave him a bit of a hurt look, touching his arm gently; briefly. “Oh. Please, Jahaziel. I’d - I’d greatly enjoy spending some time with you. Not behind bars. Or _at_ a bar.” An almost hurt frown came to his face. “You drink. Why not eat, too?”

“Drinking gets me _drunk,_ ” the angel replied flatly. ”Eating… does all sorts of things. Miracle of the human body for sure. But not for me.” Aziraphale wanted to press, and Jahaziel wanted to keep saying no, but the look he gave him… And he’d just helped him escape a very stupid discorporation. ...And he’d _greatly enjoy_ spending some time with him. His glance over to the demon showed him smiling hopefully. “I… Will get us a drink,” the angel began, “and anything else that happens to come to the table is fair game. How does that sound?”

Lantern fire playing over his features, Aziraphale contained his grin to a wide smile, trying not to show how very delighted he was. “Sounds reasonable.” They began walking towards the distant smell of the sea, and the demon was rather confident that he was going to successfully tempt his erstwhile cohort into appreciating sushi. Particularly unagi. (Unless that was somehow distant cannibalism. Those were entirely fish though, right? If not, then Aziraphale would feel some shade of awful.)

And _speaking of_ , Jahaziel gave him an odd, scrunched look as something occurred to him. “How did you know I could turn into a snake?”

Immediately unwilling to admit he’d watched Jahaziel do it so many times already, in secret, because that was _creepy_ , Aziraphale ignored the cold sweat tinging the back of his neck. “Ah, well! I - my apologies, my dear fellow, but I assumed, really! From your eyes and occasional vocal patterns-- not to mention the tattoo-- made the most logical sense. All of us turn into something, right?”

Jahaziel rose his eyebrows over the rims of his tinted glasses, staying quiet for a moment. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d hissed while speaking around Aziraphale. That was… either a very good memory, or Aziraphale was paying just as much attention to Jahaziel as the angel was to him. And that was a thrilling, hopeful thought with everything that was happening tonight. “Fair enough.”

Relieved that he seemed to be off the hook, Aziraphale smiled innocently. “Hard to miss things with this many eyes.” It was the first time since he’d gotten them that he found himself able to make light of them. (In a joking sort of way. They did _light up_ , after all.) And it felt… very good, actually. Not once had the angel shied away from them or avoided looking at them. On more than one occasion he’d even looked _into_ them. It was this thought that made him feel an incredible amount of _softness_ in the moment, and he saw Jahaziel’s expression change. “Is something wrong?”

Hesitating, Jahaziel shook his head slowly. “No… Nothing’s wrong. Well. Not _wrong_ , it just seems odd. Out of place.” He craned his neck, trying to peer around the demon in the darkness. After all that chaos, it seemed puzzling he’d feel such a strong surge of _love_ around them. He reasoned it away, as usual. They were near a different village. Another couple was perhaps sharing a quiet evening together despite the quarrelling forces. He was reminded again of the similar surges after many of their antics together, but now really wasn’t the time to relive those or comb over the details. “Ah, nevermind. Drinks, you said?”

\--

Drinks were indeed had, fine sake specifically, and the two nestled themselves in a quiet corner of a sushi restaurant that was open suspiciously early. The sun had only just started coloring the skies dark blue by the time they’d sat down. While Jahaziel was reticent to think about their other close calls, he was perfectly excited to chatter on about what had just happened. Despite feeling useless as he was carried away like a damoiseau in distress, he held no small amount of admiration for what Aziraphale had done, and how quickly he had acted. And he had no problem padding the demon’s ego for it.

“And you know,” he admitted, helping himself to another piece of sushi, “I hadn’t even _thought_ of that. What do you bet the guard was afraid of snakes? I could have crawled out that damned hole myself if I had half my wits about me.” 

Aziraphaled laughed, silently pleased the angel was enjoying the food (and the act of eating itself), waving his hand. “Oh, we all lose ourselves in worrisome situations. I’ve fretted about _walking_ before. Can you imagine? We can _teleport_.” He lowered his voice, looking around their table. No humans had seemed to pay attention to them or what they were saying, now that Aziraphale had extended his long practiced quirk of camouflage to Jahaziel. Just to be sure, he kept on in that quieter tone. “That fire was you, hm? Quite brilliant. A shame it had to go like that, but… Saved us both. And more than a few men, I’d imagine.” It hadn’t been an errand designated by Heaven or Hell. Peace treaties hadn’t been drawn from their actions. But they’d made a fight fair, and he would count it as a win. “Your capture might have been rather advantageous. If a little roundabout.” A sip, a bite. "What is it you were after, again?"

It was probably the sake or maybe the odd things the raw fish was doing to his stomach, but a swirl of uneasiness and embarrassment settled in Jahaziel’s guts. It sounded so _moronic_ now. He leaned against the back of his chair, trying for casual by resting his elbow back on it. “What else really? Supernova from the twelfth century. ‘Sposed to be inscribed intricately on a preserved piece of pottery.” At Aziraphale’s hidden smile behind a drink, Jahaziel groaned. “Oh come on, don’t give me that look. I’ve been meaning to come here for it ever since I heard. Tried learning the language and everything! Then--then time got away, and they decided to come up with this irritating travel ban. What else was I supposed to do when I finally got around to coming here some odd 600 years later?”

Aziraphale only chuckled again. “Well for starters, you could have _researched_ a bit. Coming into an active war zone with a face that doesn’t belong and all.”

Jahaziel rolled his eyes. “Please. You sound like Uriel.”

The demon frowned mildly, tilting his head in question as he picked up another roll with his chopsticks. “Uriel? Aren’t they from Human Affairs?”

“Head of Miracle Outflow now. Right burr in my rear. Ever since Sodom, they’ve haunted my every miracle that’s outside absolutely necessary for an assignment.” Jahaziel sighed, but shrugged helplessly. “Got me on a tighter budget than a churchmouse ”

Aziraphale raised his brow in understanding as he chewed. He didn’t like the fact that his friend was being watched so closely. Despite that, the angel still chose to be around the demon, which Aziraphale found _very_ endearing. He dabbed away an errant grain of rice on his lip. “I see,” he said after swallowing. “So that’s how you ended up stranded in a jail cell.”

Scratching at the skin just above his snake tattoo, Jahaziel drove away the heat in his face out of sheer will. “Yup.” Aziraphale never did point that bit out. Didn’t question why Jahaziel hadn’t miracled himself out of the situation. He’d just _helped_.

“That still doesn’t answer _why_ you came here in boredom out of the clear blue with so little prep. I apologize for needling you on this, but you’re rather more... composed, usually.” The stain of hellishness on his soul couldn’t _help_ but want to hear the angel say maybe, just maybe, he’d done this for attention. He wanted to know the truth. They were the only ones they told the truth to for centuries, after all. Was it wrong to expect it now? Was it wrong for him to ask?

Aziraphale was right, of course, and Jahaziel knew he owed him the truth after everything. He thinned his lips in thought, digging at a piece of seaweed stuck to the roof of his mouth. When he got it, he made a squeaky noise through his teeth before speaking. “I wanted... I dunno.” He let the memories back in a bit, focusing on the best parts rather than all the… Death and destruction. May the souls lost forgive him for his selfishness, but… ”It was wonderful, us saving those people in France from that awful... short man, forget his name already. Or when we snuck into the Impaler’s castle to free those girls. Or when we gave the Trojan sergeant the idea to go with a horse instead of a crocodile.” He swirled his remaining sake, looking out the door of the restaurant. A light rain had begun to patter on the long trodden earth outside. “I wanted adventure again. Knew it’d be hard to try getting the artifacts. Also knew you’d turn up at some point. Always do. Just didn’t expect it to start with me being captured.”

Fondness consumed the demon at that point, and he couldn’t help but give Jahaziel a proper grin. _We_ and _us_. His impishness practically jumped in delight around his battered soul. As quick as his smile came, however, it faded into a more mischievous smirk. To _oblivion_ with hesitation right now. If Jahaziel was going to be candid, so would he. “Like I said earlier, you could have simply _asked_ if you wanted another date, my angel.”

Now Jahaziel’s entire face _did_ go pink all the way to his ears, half-excited and half-mortified at that entire sentence. Especially _my angel._ He’d never called him that before. Oh it _so didn’t help_ that someone was feeling amorous somewhere in the building! It only made his face _redder_. He tried valiantly to play it off, but he still ended up stuttering. “I just--I-I mean, I wasn’t--I wasn’t trying to imply-- I mean, of course not. It could get us in trou--”

Aziraphale chuckled openly, cutting Jahaziel off. He took a brave little leap to squeeze the top of Jahaziel’s hand on the edge of the table. “I jest! I jest. Don’t fret, Jahaziel.” He took his hand away before it could be considered more. He didn’t want to scare his friend away, after all.

“I... I’m not _fretting_. I don’t fret,” said Jahaziel petulantly. A dirty liar, he was, _absolutely_ fretting over the hand squeeze and his swirling emotions. Something as simple as Aziraphale’s laugh and saying his bloody _name_. Honestly! He should really turn those emotions down. Would be the mature thing. Everyone else did. There seemed to be some real merit in that at the moment. When had he ever enjoyed life _without_ those most human of emotions though?

“I do think that next time you feel that way, you should come to mine first off.” Aziraphale eyed him over his glasses, scrunching his nose devilishly with another smile. “I’m sure one of my new ‘hopefuls’ could lead us to a much more controlled, closer-to-home incident we could get right in the middle of. Sounds almost sinfully _delightful_ , doesn’t it?”

There was something about the demon’s lower tone of voice that _exhilarated_ Jahaziel. It made him lean closer almost instinctively. Sinful. Delightful. Hundreds of years ago he would have taken pause at those words. Today, past the flush spreading to his collar, he found himself smiling back, now wishing he’d called on Aziraphale in the first place. “Well. When you put it that way.” He distantly realized he might have it _incredibly bad_ for him, as in a “could get him smote if he went too far” way. (Smited? Smoten? The lexicon of Heaven was baffling sometimes.) But he couldn’t really find it in him to care as much as he once would have. They’d be together. Even if nothing more happened that Jahaziel found himself hoping for now, they’d still _enjoy life_ and do some real good at the same time.

Wasn’t that all that mattered anymore?


	6. Chapter 6

The next time Jahaziel decided to enjoy life happened a mere 24 years later, but what had brought him to Aziraphale’s church was something more in the line of _preserving_ it instead, in an asinine and ironic way. Rather than seeking the demon out for adventure, the angel had a favor to ask. At no point did he assume it would be easy, but the looming and _dark_ presence of the building settled even more doubt into his mind. Rather than hesitate he steeled himself, ignoring the prickling _bad_ that surrounded the place, and invited himself inside.

Books. There were so many _books_. And scrolls and random pamphlets and other objects with knowledge inscribed on them. Like a child seeing fireworks for the first time, he couldn’t keep his eyes in any one place for too long in his eagerness to look at the next thing - floor to ceiling, surrounding a modest gathering of makeshift pews - and, curiously, a lone plant - tall shelves were filled with them. All shapes and sizes and colours, different thicknesses and paper weight. About anything and everything, it seemed. He felt a small plume of love within himself, closing his eyes to appreciate what Aziraphale had found to devote himself to in place of Heaven or the Almighty. 

When one sense was lessened another grew stronger, and he was mid-appreciation when Jahaziel heard voices coming from somewhere near the pulpit. Curiosity left him to eavesdrop, but the natural little fear of _getting caught doing so_ brought him tightly to an angled shelf, inching along to get closer and hear the voices better. His caution brought him into the middle of the conversation, and he pushed his senses out just the tiniest bit to get a better feel for what was happening. (His sense of _smell_ sharpened as well; strong sulphur and ancient paper was _not_ a scent he found he enjoyed.)

“...trying to do this. It doesn’t make any sense.” The voice was somewhat deep. Jahaziel felt a distinct darkness from it, seeping through the spaces between the books and the shelves. It touched him, and he shivered, willing away his discomfort. He did not want to get caught here, no matter who happened to own (or at least reside in) the building. The voice continued, and he pressed closer still to listen. “We come to earth from Hell to perform misdeeds and lead humans astray. And you come in with your stupid words and want us to _stop?”_

“Have you attended none of my sermons?” 

Jahaziel’s eyes lit up hearing Aziraphale’s voice, smile coming to his face unbidden. 

“I was told of this place by Saleos. He spoke very highly of you, Azrikam.” _Azrikam?_ Jahaziel mouthed the name to himself with a face. “I was suspicious, naturally… He was so hard working before. Now his soul count is as bad as yours is.”

The angel heard Aziraphale ( _ **Azrikam???**_ ) chuckle. “But he seems to be enjoying himself much more, hm? Able to drink and gamble and do all the things he enjoyed making humans do. It isn’t fair that they get to have all the fun, is it?” 

“Well…”

“Imagine if you will, please. All those things you convince humans to do. Cheat on their wives with beautiful women. Embezzle money so that they may treat themselves. Eat and drink until their belts pop. They _indulge,_ Bifrons.”

There was hesitance in Bifrons’ next statement. “...So?”

“How many humans have you led to do these things in the past month?” Aziraphale asked patiently.

“...Four. Five, maybe. I gotta follow up later on tonight.”

“Right, yes. Alright. You know that club on the corner, just up the street? The rich men that always go there to play cards with the pretty girls on their knees. How many of them have visited at your behest? In this past month.”

Jahaziel waited for the response. It took a full ten seconds for Bifrons to answer. “...Well. None of them. But - but two of them stole. I did that.”

“Yes, of course. And you must be very proud.” His tone held a rather flat boredom at that, though he continued without pause. “But all those men at the club. Different men. Different women. Dozens - hundreds of them. Who do you think made them go and do those things?”

Another pause. “...You?”

And yet another laugh from Aziraphale, this one positively jovial. “No one, Bifrons. They went of their own volition. Humans have this magnificent thing that we call ‘free will’. They are also incredibly impressionable. If something sounds fun, and they see other humans having fun doing it, they will participate themselves. Or if they see a human that has something that they want, and their morals wear thin, they will take it from them. If another human angers them, they will punish them. Humans will break rules. Humans will steal. Humans will kill. Humans will cheat and lie and _sin_ whether or not we are there to encourage them to do so.”

“...Oh.” The air around him shifted just the slightest bit, some of the darkness that had leaked through the books receding. “And you know all this for sure?”

The next words Aziraphale said were spoken through a smile, Jahaziel could hear it. “I was there when it first happened, my boy. When given the choice to do so, humans took that opportunity to indulge themselves. They had every given opportunity to avoid the consequences of what they knew to be wrong. And they did it anyway.”

Awe touched the next word he heard from Bifrons, the darkness fading further. It wasn’t turning into light; no, Bifrons wouldn’t be redeemed. But it was still fading. “...Why?”

Still smiling, clearly, Aziraphale chuckled. “It’s very hard to say no to a beautiful redhead.”

 _Oh._ Jahaziel’s face burned so hotly he was certain he’d set fire to the books it was currently mashed against. Very much wanting to flee and deal with this _feeling_ elsewhere, he took a deep breath and stayed instead. He needed to talk to Aziraphale.

“So. You’re telling me. Humans will do all this stuff… even without us doing anything?”

“That’s exactly right. Doesn’t it sound rather lovely? Hell gets its fair share of humans sinning. And all we do is sit back and wait for it to happen.”

“...You’re makin’ a lot of sense.” 

“Quite so, Bifrons.” Jahaziel heard a sound that may have been a hand clapping on a shoulder. “Is that all you needed from me? I’m very sorry you missed my latest sermon. I had just explained the Trojan war. Gruesome stuff. I was only peripherally involved myself, but. I’ll tell you, it was merely drunken suggestion.” Aziraphale chuckled again. “And I was still looked upon fondly for it. You see, up here, it doesn’t matter so much _how_ humans sin. It only matters that they _do._ And they will, given enough time and pretty things and pretty faces.” He paused, and Jahaziel could imagine him nodding. “They will.” 

No more words were spoken, but there was a _crack_ that echoed in the space not occupied by books, and the vile presence that Jahaziel had felt simply vanished. Quick as he could, he arranged himself to sit in a pew, trying to exude casualness.

That was how Aziraphale found him a few moments later, and the demon smiled brightly. “Angel,” he greeted warmly, adjusting what amounted to a rather _offensive_ mockery of a priest’s garb in the usual earthy tones. (Jahaziel, naturally, found the irony very attractive. Despite knowing he shouldn’t. And he found it fitting as well. ...And he didn’t even blush at the pet name this time.)

Said angel waved. “Beautiful building. Unconsecrated, too. I’m impressed.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, well. It wasn’t quite a church to begin with. Rather sort of turned into one. Just as well, hm?” He hummed, folding his hands in front of himself. “I’m sure you heard some of that. This… is what I’ve been doing with myself. Collecting books. And reforming demons.”

“It’s brilliant,” Jahaziel admitted plainly, leaning forward as he shook his head, and the demon preened under the praise. “You can’t redeem them, but you make them less… wicked. They don’t do good, but they don’t do much _bad_ either.” 

“Precisely the goal, my dear. I’d adore the opportunity to show you around, if you’d let me.” Brow raised. “Unless you are here on business?” The twinkle in his eye directly opposed the words he’d spoken. Jahaziel could have been here because of Heaven, or he could have been here to take him up on the offer of finding some trouble together. The latter was far more preferable of course, but whatever the angel wanted Aziraphale would do his best to assist with. As always.

Jahaziel knew he really should get to the point of his visit. It was already eating away agonizingly slow at his insides. But this was the first time he’d seen where the demon had carved a niche for himself and he desperately wanted to enjoy it. He’d been worried, after so long, that Aziraphale might _never_ find a place he belonged. Certainly not Heaven, not really Hell, and even earth seemed to hide a place for him to just _be_. How relieved Jahaziel was to find out that wasn’t the case at all. “Of course.” He waved a hand before standing, smiling at him. “I’d love to see it.”

The tour took them all around the building, Aziraphale excitedly showing him books and things he’d collected over the centuries. Jahaziel promised to get the scrolls he’d sent away to his own domicile before he left, and the demon thanked him profusely for holding onto them for so long. The angel assured him it cost him nothing to keep them safe, and this only led to more thanks. He was rather emphatic about it, Jahaziel noted, and he felt even more love for Aziraphale’s passions than he had even just entering the building. Jahaziel had, of course, many years ago, seen exactly what the scrolls contained. He always allowed himself a happy pause whenever he walked by them in his place, delicately brushing his hand over the astronomy tomes Aziraphale had chosen to grab, even in that time of panic. That the demon had thought of him at all during that chaos was rather touching. Certainly something that had been on his mind for the past few centuries.

“Aziraphale.” He paused him with a hand on his shoulder as they were passing a desk impressively stacked with papers and volumes. “There is nothing that makes me happier than protecting something important to you.” A grin. “And they’ve all been very well behaved.” 

They shared a laugh at that.

Their leisurely stroll took them out back, where a fittingly defunct fountain stood tall and still. The water still occupying the large basin was covered in a collection of yellow leaves, and a smattering of wet duck foot prints lined the stone edge. No birds were in the fountain at the moment, but the still water had little paths in the leaves where they’d certainly been not minutes ago.

Sensing that the tour was coming to an end, and saddened by more than just that fact, Jahaziel knew it was time to actually bring up why he was here in the first place. He did his best to put on a pleasant yet somewhat neutral face as he turned back towards the demon, but it didn’t feel organic enough. “I… did have a favor to ask, incidentally.” He hated how his voice sounded, unable to trim the seriousness from it. “It is work related. Somewhat.”

Brows pinching, Aziraphale tilted his head. “Is something going to happen?” A frown. Jahaziel hated that, too. “As bad as a past event?” He pressed Jahaziel in his silence. ”...Worse?”

“No, no.” Jahaziel felt a bit of relief in being able to tell Aziraphale that no humans were going to perish. “This one… is a bit more personal.” The surface of the water glinted in the sunlight that struggled to break through the clouds in the sky, and the angel sighed, wishing they could have been doing something more _fun_ together. Swimming. He’d always wanted to go swimming with him. The beach, warm sand beneath their feet, the sound of waves rushing onto the shore. “I… I need something.”

His tone told Aziraphale that it wasn’t another mission that would end in drinks, or a daring plan to steal something he simply wanted to get his hands on. “What is it, my dear? You look so serious.” Not that it wasn’t a rather handsome look. Jahaziel often looked quite attractive immersed in thought or outlining a particularly intricate plan. But this was different. And it worried him. Despite being assured it had nothing to do with something diabolically ironic Heaven was cooking up, his nerves tightened considerably.

The angel had prepared for this, at least. Not anticipating being able to actually speak it aloud, as if bringing voice to the request was a curse all on its own, he passed Aziraphale a folded piece of paper he’d taken from his pocket. “Can’t risk anyone hearing it.”

Curious, cautious, the demon took it, unfolding it carefully. Scrawling handwriting as beautiful as the hand that penned it read very plainly. And in an instant, Aziraphale was furious. “Absolutely not.” He foisted the paper back towards Jahaziel, feeling wetness well in his lower eyes. Of all the damn times-- “I’m sorry. I cannot help you. I will not.”

The angel couldn’t see the wetness behind Aziraphale’s new, wider rimmed glasses, but his tone of voice said enough. He expected some resistance, but more in a scolding way. The demon actually sounded _hurt_. “That--Aziraphale, I--”

“I can’t believe you would even _suggest_ \--” Aziraphale had to stop after his voice cracked. He had to get a hold of himself. He looked up at Jahaziel briefly when he felt the tears ready to fall. “No. Whatever you’re going to say, my answer is _no._ ”

Aziraphale had never actually said “no” to him before. He’d always been encouraging, willing, understanding. So much for that bit about denying a _beautiful redhead._ “You don’t--you don’t even know what I want it for!” exclaimed Jahaziel, shoving the paper back in the demon’s hand. Surely he would get it once Jahaziel could _explain_ \--

“Do _not_ \--” the demon started harshly, tempering his tone to a more dangerous timber. The paper crumpled in his palm. “Do not insult me, Jahaziel. What else could you possibly want _that_ for? All it’s good for is torturing souls and _killing angels_!” he whispered, severe.

“Yes, _exactly!_ What if Uriel or their goons get too close and figure out what we’ve been doing together? It’ll be over! Kaput! Done! That’s all I want it for. Just some - just some insurance. That’s all.”

“I don’t care!” Aziraphale snapped, taking a step back from Jahaziel. “It’s too dangerous! You could destroy yourself. _Forever._ How do you expect me to...” He couldn’t finish. _How do you expect me to live without you? I won’t. I can’t. I’ve fallen for you in every way possible. Can you not see that?_ He should have been honest then. He should have said it all. But what came out instead was his long nurtured bitterness. The bitterness towards Heaven with what they did over the eons. Towards God for letting such horrors happen. For letting him spiral into desperate love with this _moron_ he should never have been with. Was this part of the _Divine Plan_ too? He looked over the top of his shades at the angel. “How do you expect me to do my job anymore? Keep myself under Hell’s radar without your assistance?” He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean that one iota, but he couldn’t bear this. Jahaziel had to hear this ‘no’ and know he meant it. “We aren’t talking about this.”

Neither were really hearing one another anymore. The entire conversation felt _alien_ to Jahaziel. Usually they were so in sync, so perfectly in tune they could practically finish each other’s sentences. In fact, on more than one occasion, they _had._ It felt so wrong for them to be butting heads so severely, and it made him so _uncomfortable_ that Aziraphale… wasn’t… listening to him. It’s what had endeared the angel to him in the first place, so long ago. Aziraphale had been the only other creature, on Heaven or earth, to not only listen, but really _hear_ him. Jahaziel almost kept arguing over this until Aziraphale saw reason. He _had_ to understand that Jahaziel would naturally take the utmost caution if he did have occasion to use it. 

But his argument fizzled out at those last comments. The cruel weight of what Aziraphale just said reminded him of one glaring fact, something he constantly forgot. His friend was still a demon. Those kind of schemes lined up perfectly with his nature. Had the angel really been wrong all along about how he thought Aziraphale might possibly feel for him? Had he been so wrong to think that he was _different?_ “ _My asssssistance?_ ” he hissed, wet eyes narrowing. An ugly pit formed in his gut, spreading up to his throat and constricting it. His next words were tight. “Is _that_ what all this has ever been about to you?”

Unable to keep face, Aziraphale turned away from him back towards the church. Tear tracks wetted his cheeks, and his face contorted in an effort not to start crying. His heart felt like it was being ripped in half. To even have the angel believe a _hint_ of something this awful made him sick. But he couldn’t be an avenue for the possibility of suicide. To have Jahaziel fall was one thing. Almost inevitable, at this point. But to be left without him entirely? He couldn’t even fathom it. Somehow, he managed to say, “You’ll fall before I give you hellfire. At least you won’t be able to destroy yourself with it then.”

Jahaziel gave a scowl to the back of the demon’s head. “Not like I require _your assistance_ either to get my hands on it,” spat out Jahaziel, feeling like a pillar of cold stone. Later he’d definitely read more into this entire interaction, suspecting Aziraphale had said things he didn’t mean to shut Jahaziel down. In hindsight he’d realize that the demon was right, and that there was more than one way to skin a cat. (In _this_ case, the cat was evading capture by a very obnoxious stalker.) And it’d be more than _stupidly_ obvious it was all because Aziraphale was trying to protect him. Because he _loved_ him. But for right now, Jahaziel was hurt. He was furious. Bitter and spiteful and about to say something he didn’t quite mean, either. And he knew nothing about what Aziraphale felt for him simply because he said the one thing that reminded him that it really _shouldn’t matter anyway._ “I have connections too, you know. I just thought that I could trust my _best friend_ with something this important!” He was almost yelling at this point. He couldn’t help it. “I see I was wrong.”

Without looking back at Aziraphale, Jahaziel stormed past him, through the church, and onto Tudor Street. He walked for two hours, not even bothering with the laws of physics when walking across the Thames. Luckily no one decided to look at the water that afternoon. He didn’t stop, not until he got inside his flat on the Royal Observatory grounds. He sunk down to the floor, slithering into a tight ball of gold and black scales. He stared at the ceiling with eyes that couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry, not when he had no one to blame but himself for letting his heart run away from him. If only he’d practiced what he preached and used his wits for _one second_. How stupid he was for hoping for anything more with the demon.

Aziraphale did what Jahaziel didn’t, tears streaming out of every eye as he hunched over his pulpit. He was convinced that he’d lost Jahaziel. Who would forgive words as cruel as that? No matter if it was true or not. He’d been frightfully awful, saying things he would consider to truly be the most vile things he'd ever spoken.

No force on earth would be able to open the doors to Aziraphale’s church or Jahaziel’s flat for months to come.


	7. Chapter 7

Eighty years would pass where neither the angel nor demon would break the silence between them. Ever since Alexandria, they’d not gone more than a decade without meeting to touch base. 

Jahaziel didn’t come by Aziraphale’s, didn’t pound on his front door, didn’t even enter his part of London the entire time. Aziraphale could tell. The general sense of _goodness_ that the angel brought with him had faded after some months, the church once again falling into the dimness he’d become accustomed to. It had been so nice to have him in here, as if he was the missing piece the place needed. The demon tried distracting himself with his sermons to his converted demons, tried focusing on better ways to care for his terrible plant, but nothing really drove away the fact that he’d _hurt_ his dearest friend. He didn’t blame Jahaziel for not coming back. He wouldn’t have either. He’d made it sound like he’d used the angel, and quite manipulatively at that. Hell certainly would have been proud had they been watching the conversation. This vicious, bitter thought haunted him incessantly for the better part of a year and a half.

Despite that though, he figured Head Office would start to bother him again soon, so he took a trip to the Underworld for the first time in centuries. He visited the old bulletin board in Prince Mammon’s Fourth Circle of Hell. (Arguably the most civil and power abundant of the Circles. No one licked the walls there, it smelled sickly sweet instead of rotten, and none of the lights flickered. He _was_ biased though. Mammon was his original manager before being transferred unwillingly to Beelzebub.) He looked through the job postings for something, _anything_ involved and complicated that wouldn’t become violent. He had to get his mind off of his life and Jahaziel. The only thing that sounded good was corrupting a rising young political figure in America hot on the heels of the War of 1812. It was volunteer only, though. No compensation, no increase of status or power. Mammon clearly didn’t expect anyone to win this soul. Seemed like a perfectly good way to waste a lot of time.

So Aziraphale took it, leaving his church and Blackfriars for Upstate New York for fifty-three years. The only thing that followed him from the church was the aforementioned terrible plant; a very frightened-looking ficus that, somehow, seemed less than thrilled to make the journey. No one would go in to his home. No one would know the place was empty or that it even existed. He wanted to forget. In this desperate effort, the church itself forgot it existed, too - no dust, no dirt, no grime nor any sense of untidiness would come to disturb the place in his absence. No one would think of breaking in, and anyone that lived or came nearby simply looked it over as if nothing were there at all. 

He wasn’t the only one that wanted to forget, naturally. Every time he thought of going back to Aziraphale, Jahaziel felt betrayed and heartsick all at once. He turned himself from the thought every time with no small degree of pain. Without the demon to aid him, Jahaziel got into _laughable_ degrees of trouble trying to get hellfire and avoid Uriel. Most of the trouble was minor, because the angel didn’t have a single, real impish bone in his body. But he was nothing if not determined. One such instance was trying to negotiate with some occultists to summon infernal flames. Authorities had chased him and the occultists through a sleeping neighborhood. He may have used the tiniest spark of magic to jump over tall hedges no human should be able to, effectively losing the police. (He wouldn’t have a supposedly friendly demonic force to save him this time. Never would again, he suspected dramatically.) The little miracle didn’t show up on Uriel’s radar, but a myth called “Spring-Heeled Jack” whirled around Victorian London for decades.

But eventually, he dug around in enough damp places, unearthing some of the more undesirable types. The most recent and dangerous group had come up in his research into cults or networks with Lower connections. One that demons tended to frequent in recent times: the Freemasons. They had a relatively old (by human standards), storied history steeped in mystery and rumor. They weren’t exactly paganistic or very supernatural, but they had so much conspiracy surrounding them that Jahaziel figured they’d be worth a shot.

The Freemasons in England wanted nothing to do with his inquiries, believing him to be a curious knob of a journalist. So he popped across the Channel to visit their cousins at New Years in 1894. The Parisian Masons proved to be harder to find, but when he finally did manage to locate them, he made sure through a small quirk of favor that they would respect the effort he went to. Once he established a connection with one ranked Journeyman, he promptly returned home. Too much time in Paris reminded him of Aziraphale at this point. Written correspondence would do just fine.

A round little angel that reminded Jahaziel of a blue parakeet showed up at his house the exact same day he came back. Sickeningly sweet and passive aggressive, he introduced himself as Dolmiel and questioned Jahaziel for over two hours during tea. He finally left when he was assured Jahaziel hadn’t used heavenly favor to persuade a stranger to see the light in a dark place. Or something. (He didn’t care. He just wanted Miracle Outflow to climb off his ass already. It was coming up on 2000 years of auditing! Didn’t they get bored?!)

It wasn’t a month before the Parisian Masons sent him a message, asking what he could offer them in return. They were coming to a disagreement in their courts, and they would exchange information about his hellfire for very specific footnotes written only in Roger Bacon’s original _Opus Majus._ They demanded the physical book, no matter what Jahaziel had to do to obtain it. Luckily, Jahaziel already had it for the astronomy bits. The whole thing was in Latin and everything, just like they wanted. Seemed a bit too perfect, really. Almost… constructed.

So that’s how he ended up sitting with the ancient book in his lap on a park bench outside the Royal Observatory at 1 A.M. on February 15th, waiting for the Masons to arrive. Despite the chill and his breath billowing into the still air, he sported a simple grey, long-sleeve button up, black vest, and coal slacks. His black pork pie hat sat atop the book, and he pulled absently at the small red feather on the band.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t nervous. For all the defiance he held in his heart, this was really one of the first times he felt as if he were truly acting _alone._ It frightened him, just a bit, to think he was without some sort of safety net here. Aziraphale wasn’t coming, wouldn’t just appear out of nowhere to sweet-talk with him to get his way. And what made matters worse, he couldn’t even call on any part of Heaven to assist him either. This was a rogue solo mission.

The Masons were nothing if not punctual, appearing in their noisy auto-carriage at 1:15, just when they said they would. The two walked over, poorly lit by the outdated gas lamps of the Observatory. One of them spoke in French to Jahaziel gruffly. He looked fairly normal wearing tweed, black hair thick under his cap. The other was a tall, imposing man - sharply appointed. He had a shaven head and a _very_ specific holy aura. He stood silent, studying the angel.

Jahaziel stood, donned his hat, and raised his brow at the two of them, trying to ignore the feeling of being _appraised._ “I thought I told your boss already. I don’t speak French, Apprentices. Well. Anymore.” Chose to forget that language and all.

The holy man looked down his nose at Jahaziel. “Journeymen,” he quietly corrected, his accent faint. “And you did not tell him that.” He looked down at the wax paper bound book in the angel’s hand. “Is that it?”

“Have you got the information?” countered Jahaziel. He wasn’t exactly jumping out of his skin to hand over one of his more prized possessions to begin with, so he wanted to be absolutely sure. “I’m even willing to pay on top of this book for it.”

The two of them exchanged a glance, their eyes dark under the streetlamp. The plain one in tweed spoke up this time, his accent so thick he was barely intelligible. “Man willing to pay much for evidence of supernatural could… pay more. We rely on sponsor.”

Jahaziel rolled his eyes. _Human avarice._ He swore to God silently. It would cost him literally nothing to conjure up money to hand off to them. He was mostly just impatient and annoyed. (Still nervous.) “Fine yes yes, whatever, you’ll have as much as you want, alright? Now. _What is your information?_ ”

“Book first,” said Tweed, holding out his hand.

“Then your hellfire,” finished Holy rather creepily.

“ _Keep your voice down,_ ” hissed Jahaziel, eyes darting over the grounds. He didn’t want to give this book up. He was fine with paying these types off. But when it came to giving them something of his, something that could be used to a possibly evil end? It didn’t sit right with him. (Not to mention, he _really_ wanted the bits about the stars. Damn it all, he should have taken those pages beforehand. He didn’t care much for the other parts of the book like Aziraphale would have. He doubted they would have pored over every page to make sure they were all there.) He considered miracling it back into his study once they got back to Paris, but no one else knew about this. “Why do you need this book, anyway?” he said, squinting at them behind his red glasses. “It’s mainly about philosophy. I should know; I’ve read it cover to cover hundreds of times. What’s so important in it to your bosses that they just _have_ to have it?”

“Octavio told us you liked the sound of your own voice,” said Holy, evading the question and somehow quieter than before. “He was right.” Despite his aura, Jahaziel had a gut feeling this man was _dangerous_. He probably hadn’t done anything exceptionally sinful in his life yet, but his heart was already willing to throw itself to violence.

He knew he was stalling now, but Jahaziel kept on, despite his instincts telling him to just hand the book over. Apart from that, he almost had to know what tall, dark, and creepy’s deal really _was_. “And what about you? What’s a _priest_ doing among the Freemasons?”

Tweed looked between Holy and Jahaziel and back again. He muttered something in French to Holy, but Holy held up two fingers to him. His gaze turned from scrutinous to sharp and narrow. “You’re obviously connected,” he said mildly. “But you’re wasting time. I can only think of a couple reasons someone would waste time while trading with us. And those reasons are making me _nervous._ ” He sounded nothing close to nervous, menacing as any demon worth their salt. (Or. Something other than salt. Sulphur?) “The book. _And_ the money. Or no information.”

Jahaziel looked between the both of them, the corner of his upper lip twitching. Right. There really was no point in delaying this any longer. He sighed through his nose, walking to the nearest tree and miracling up a satchel of 100 pounds. He strode back, handing the bag and book to Holy. 

Holy opened the wax paper to inspect the book, handing off the satchel to Tweed who already had greedy fingers ready to snatch it up. Counting the pounds took Tweed all of ten seconds, his eyes darting up to grin at Holy. He said something excitedly in French, eyeing Jahaziel and nodding in approval. “Rich man.”

The angel only bristled slightly at the comment, annoyance pushed further. “I told you, money is no object. Now. Fair’s fair. Tell me. What do you know about--” He looked left and right _almost_ comically, making sure there was really no one else around before lowering his voice. “ _It?_ ”

Holy looked through a couple pages delicately, finding the footnotes he was looking for. His brow rose, and he closed the book gently, rewrapping it. “We didn’t think you could do it. But you certainly did follow through.”

Jahaziel raised his eyebrows expectantly back at Holy, a mere moment away from tapping his foot impatiently. “Well?”

The two exchanged a look. “What you seek does not exist,” said Holy, shrugging. “Not beyond religion and myth. But you’re a… smart man, I suppose.” Tweed shouldered the satchel, pulling out a gun on Jahaziel, who’s eyes widened only slightly. “Did you really think the Masons would have a fairytale on hand?”

“How many more money you think he have inside?” said Tweed, a wicked grin growing. Jahaziel could practically see pound signs replace his pupils. “Maybe 100 more? Two hundred?”

The angel’s eyes fell shut. Oh _of course._ Of course this would happen to him. He just so _happened_ to run into the most avaricious secret society. “Ah well. That’s rather disappointing.” He sighed heavily, the sound rolling into a groan. ”Bound to happen at some point.”

Holy tilted his head. “A gun is pointed at your head, and you don’t flinch.” He finally cracked a smile. “More belief in religious folklore?”

“You know, you really ought to be ashamed of yourself. I know She probably is. But. Who really knows anymore?” He looked up at the night sky, voice agitated. “Seems to turn a blind eye on pretty much everything lately!”

Tweed took a couple steps forward, the gun less than a foot from Jahaziel’s chest. 

Jahaziel grimaced, a cold pit of fear finally working into his stomach. “Oh come on, is there really any need to make me go through that whole rigamarole Upstairs? I’m already on thin ice as it is.”

“Annoying,” Tweed said. He pulled the hammer back. “Rich and annoying.”

Oh, _hell._ There was no way, after a stunt like this, they’d send him back to earth. This would be even harder to explain than being killed in Japan, he’d be willing to bet. ‘Oh, yes, sorry about that, was trying to find a way to potentially permanently eliminate a fellow angel, you know how it goes. London again, if you please!’ And Aziraphale - there was no way to get word to him from Upstairs, was there? He’d undoubtedly be put on some sort of _parole_ for this, if not outrightly eliminated himself. This was a lose on all fronts, and he was so _annoyed._ Sad and annoyed.

He cursed himself silently, wishing he’d just _dropped the subject_ with Aziraphale. It’d been so long since he’d seen him last. He regretted every last word that had come out of his stupid mouth. In the end, his paranoia had only served to hurt both of their feelings, and he hadn’t even the chance to fix it. He should have just mentioned it instead, Uriel tailing him a little too closely, and the two of them could have worked something out. But it was too late. He’d leave earth, he’d never see Aziraphale again, and the demon would be condemned to an eternity of thinking the angel had left hating him. That, out of everything, hurt most of all.

As if by some _miracle_ however, up the pathway a bit, someone called out. “Ah excuse me, gents!” 

Everyone looked up to see someone in a bowler hat wearing a tan and dark cream pinstripe suit. White curls were backlit by lamplight as he came closer, hefting a closed umbrella. 

Jahaziel would recognize that voice and slightly hesitant, silent gait _anywhere_. He swallowed a _lot_ of difficult feelings in those moments, most of which culminated to a wetness in his eyes and a swift, emotional punch to the gut. Aziraphale drew close enough for Jahaziel to catch a whiff of his familiar, comforting smell, and the angel nearly melted on the spot. Despite the anxiety curling in his stomach, a familiar sense of _safety_ engulfed him too. He had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch him, as if to make sure he was really there.

Likewise, the demon wanted nothing more than to pull him away and hold him close, gush a thousand apologies for every unfair thing he’d said, and just _make amends_ already. He’d lived an entire life without him, which he’d speak of at a later date, and he was simply just over it. This silence was absurd. And on top of that - the angel needed him. No amount of argument over _any_ subject would prevent him from intervening. Not when Jahaziel was in trouble.

“-Hazi-” he panted, having jogged the last few meters to them, catching his breath and entirely forgetting the presence of the other two men the moment he was close enough to not shout. “We need to talk. I - I mean, clearly, we do. Need to talk. But--” He closed his eyes, taking a breath to steady himself. “I know you think it’s the only way, but, _please_ , let’s just talk. And we can figure something out. I’m so _desperately_ tired of this silence.”

Once Aziraphale said _that,_ Jahaziel found it difficult to recall the two Journeymen himself. He was simultaneously elated and irritated all over again. They needed to talk, yes. Jahaziel _wanted_ to talk, yes. But about _that? **Now?**_ “You don’t _understand,_ Azzy. I just need you to let me explain--”

“Gentleman,” came a flat, impatient voice from Holy, the pair of celestials looking over. Aziraphale winced immediately as his eyes met the form of the taller man, turning his gaze away from him. What Jahaziel had merely sensed as some sort of holiness caused physical pain to the demon, burning each of his eyes so severely he had to take a step away from the pair. Holy cleared his throat as Aziraphale rubbed under his glasses uselessly. “There are plenty of bullets for everyone. You can finish your reunion in the afterlife.”

Jahaziel pulled a face. “About that, funny thing--”

“Oh goodness, are they terrorists?” Aziraphale managed, stepping further away and pulling Jahaziel with him as Tweed and Holy moved closer still, discomfort crawling all over his body, “Certainly look it; they’re just bloody _bullies_. What do you wager they’ve a bomb planted somewhere nearby, too? As if _shooting_ someone isn’t rude enough.” He looked up again, grimacing once more as he caught sight of Holy before looking to the gun Tweed held. The two exchanged a look of bemusement before Holy simply pulled another gun from his own person. Plenty of bullets indeed. He pointed it squarely at Aziraphale, who shied away more from his presence itself than that of the gun. He swallowed, giving the angel’s arm a squeeze.

It was enough to replace all of Jahaziel’s uncertainty with that exhilarating sense of adventure again, and he knew at once the demon hadn’t mentioned a bomb for _nothing._

An instant was all the time he needed to toss up a barrier around the two of them as the explosion rang out, sending a bench, the pounds, and bits and pieces of earthy debris scattering everywhere. (As well as the superfluous umbrella that Aziraphale had been holding.) The two Journeymen caught the brunt of it, as Aziraphale had intended, and didn’t survive their injuries for very long. Killing humans was never something on his agenda, but in this case it was unavoidable. Though he didn’t quite think Jahaziel, this time, would mind.

Once their ears stopped ringing, it was Jahaziel that spoke first.

“Before you say anything, please let me explain myself.”

Aziraphale, about to speak himself, shut his mouth and nodded. Truthfully, the angel could thank him for his intervention, say he’d never want to see him again, and the demon would simply just comply. It would hurt as badly as their argument had, but Jahaziel deserved to be heard out after what had been said to him. And at the very least, he’d get to say goodbye this time.

Swallowing, the angel took in a breath. All the things he’d practiced to himself, all the ways he could approach the topic, everything - dissolved away the first second he had to put them into play. Of course. But he tried anyway. “Whether or not I’m just your assistant… That doesn’t matter. Being your assistant is something I have treasured immensely and missed greatly.” 

“I--” Aziraphale began to interject, wanting more than anything to clear up that _disgusting_ slip of the tongue that had tormented him for so long now. But Jahaziel silenced him with a head shake and held up a single finger.

“Please, Aziraphale. I know you think I’m foolish, or thinking rashly, but these past eighty years have given me so much time to think about what I’ve wanted to say. And it may sound _stupid_ , but I need to explain to you why it isn’t.” He took one of Aziraphale’s hands then, holding it between his own. “I need to explain to you why you’re the only person from Above or Below that can help me. I don’t think I did a good enough job of it before. And… and we got angry at one another. Said terrible things.” He squeezed that hand, feeling the fingers he held curl tightly around his own. “I would never _want_ to use hellfire on myself, Aziraphale. It would be a last resort. If Uriel or any of their lackeys found out I was helping you--” He shook his head, looking at their hands, a very tiny portion of his mind admiring just how _nice_ it felt to be holding his again. “...Well. I’d rather not give them the pleasure, hm?” Eyes returned to the demon’s hopefully, wanting him to know just how badly it would hurt him to even _have_ to use it, and not even because it would mean his own non-existence. “I have an idea what they’d do to me. But I really wouldn’t want to be proven right.”

The pause Jahaziel gave after that was long enough for Aziraphale to feel comfortable in expressing himself, and he did so with such a burst of emotion he wouldn’t have been surprised if the angel hushed him like a crying child.

“You are _not_ my assistant, Jahaziel. You _aren’t._ I never meant to say it that way. I’m not simply using you to avoid Hell’s ire. I’m. Oh, Jahaziel. I was just so _upset_ \- the idea of you--” He actually stamped his foot in frustration, squeezing his hand tighter, now holding both of the angel’s with his own in turn. “I was _frightened,_ that you would come to me for something like that. My mind stopped. I didn’t know what to say to make you realize that what you wanted _terrified_ me, and it came out all _wrong.”_ It was coming out wrong _now,_ but like Jahaziel, his rehearsed lines fumbled in the face of their actual use. “In the moment, my mind thought that distancing myself like that from you would make you realize there were other options, and I am so very _sorry._ I regretted it immediately as I said it, but we were just so heated…” He shook his head then, bowing it slightly. “I don’t know if I can get you what you want. The idea still mortifies me. But. If.. I-if I can, I’ll try to come up with anything else that could possibly work. That I _will_ promise you. I promise I will try to get you hellfire while I try to think of any other options.” His hands gripped tighter still, and trembled gently. “Forgive me? If nothing else, please forgive me for what I said. I treasure our companionship more than anything.”

Jahaziel, all this while, listened quietly; body moving in close as Aziraphale held his hands. He’d missed him such an incredible amount that even hearing him speak was enough to ease the tension from the past hour or so, finding immense comfort in his presence like nothing else. And what was said… Did pacify him. He hadn’t wanted to believe any of what had been said between them during their argument. It was all so… ugly. The heartache he’d felt was insufferably real, but learning that it had just been… heat of the moment? Wires in the brain crossed? “Of course,” he whispered, nodding and taking in a sharp, emotional breath. “Aziraphale. Of course. Please, I’ve - apology _accepted,_ a thousand times.” And he paused again, worrying his lip for a moment. “...Thank you, too. For considering it. And for helping me with--” Oh. Oh _hell again._ He released Aziraphale’s hands to grind the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. (He hadn’t deemed his sunglasses necessary in the dark.) “My book…” It was undoubtedly a scattering of charred papers now, lost forever. 

The demon held up a finger and scooted away, heading over to the body of the more eloquent of the assailants. He slipped the book out from between his hands, the proximity burning him like touching a heat lamp. He hissed, feeling the skin on the palms of his hands and fingers blister as he held the manuscript, undamaged. He brought it back over to the angel, who took it rather promptly as he caught a whiff of burning flesh. ...And then he looked at it, eyes widening for a moment before he held it to his chest and stared at Aziraphale again. The demon only smiled helpfully, gently shaking out his hands as the blisters faded. “Don’t have a miracle budget,” he supplied. “If it was important enough to get shot over, it was worth protecting for you.”

Jahaziel… was floored. Protecting _for him._ Not only that, he’d come here - found him - in the first place. At the exact moment he’d needed him, just like every time before. He’d whipped up a _bomb_ for him, even. He felt a warmth wash over him as he hugged the book to his chest, ringing in his ears and filling him with something he’d sensed before, in small doses, but never once really felt himself being the _source_ of. It was at this moment he decided he loved Aziraphale. He realized he had for such a very, very long time. He let the emotion overtake him. After keeping it at bay for the past seventy-two years, and thousands more on top of that, it struck him rather blindly, leaving him largely immobilized and feeling like he was unsteady on his feet all at once. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. “Th-thank you,” is what he managed lamely, trying to deal with the overwhelming sensation that he was sure could be felt two towns over. “Do--” Was he being too forward? Aziraphale _did_ just save him and his book. “Would you like to come back to mine? I’ve… I’ve got brandy.”

Unlike Jahaziel, Aziraphale could no longer sense love. Not in the same way the angel could. He sensed trepidation, mostly. But the look he got over the book, the offer extended to him… That was all he needed to know things were going to be alright. A smile bloomed on his face, fond as anything. They would talk. And spend time together again. He wanted nothing more. “Lead the way, my angel.”


	8. Chapter 8

Some time ago, in 1656, an angel met with a woman the night before her untimely execution. 

“I don’t really understand why you’re telling me these things,” the woman, named Agnes Nutter, professed rather boredly. “It’s not as if I’m going to _remember_ them when I’m _dead.”_

“Rather beautifully the point, hm?” Michael crooned from across the table, toying with the cup of tea they’d been given. It made no sense to hide what they were from someone on death row, so their usual tan and gold getup, complete with facial accents, was present. “How does that go? Dead men tell no tales?” They laughed, an eerily melodic sound. “Dead witches, rather, I suppose.” 

“You’ve come to curse my book. What’s there to say I don’t have another prophecy tucked away somewhere to prevent it? Or that I’m not actually going to die?” Agnes stirred her own tea, admiring the swirl of leaves in it. She was lying, of course. She hadn’t expected divine intervention. And she certainly hadn’t expected to _not_ be executed. “Tell me why you’re cursing my book, again?” 

Michael sighed through their nose, folding their hands in front of them on the table. “In the off chance there are any prophecies written that may prevent, hinder, lead astray, delay, or otherwise ruin a series of events set in motion centuries ago, I am cursing all copies of your book. Making them as useless as a coffee table reader.” Elbow leaned on the table, slender hand supporting their sharp chin. “And it really wouldn’t _matter_ if you didn’t die or had some other prophecies. A curse is a curse. Any prophecies you write or copy from that book will hold the same level of boredom to anyone looking. No more important or memorable than a blasé anecdote.” The hand was waved, angel leaning back. “Certainly just as meaningless. The words will blend into nothing, and be forgotten.” 

Agnes folded her hands similarly. “You very much like hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

To this, Michael grinned, eyes narrowing with the action. “I don’t get to play house with humans. I might be enjoying it just a bit too much.” The tapped their mouth with a single, perfectly manicured finger. “Centuries, even, since I’ve so much as spoken with one.”

The witch gave a sarcastic little smile. “Lucky me.” 

A knock at the door made the pair of them look over, Michael gliding to let the next unexpected guest in. A funny-looking little fellow came through the door, holding a rectangular board, some papers atop it, and a black quill. He was somewhat on the shorter side compared to the current occupants of the cottage, black hair oddly resembling the ears of a rabbit. Swathed in dark clothing, Anges almost immediately noticed the abysmal aura around him, but only sipped her tea quietly. “If I had known I was hosting a party, I’d have prepared better.”

“Should have _predicted_ it then, hm?” Michael asked sweetly, corners of their eyes wrinkling with a sarcastic smile.

“I’m here for a…” The second intruder interrupted, flipping a few pages. “Cursing. I have a hex scheduled in about an hour, do you think this’ll take long?” He jotted some things down before looking up at Michael, ignoring Agnes almost entirely for the time being.

The angel sighed. “I don’t know, will it?” Without asking permission, they went to collect the volume off the top of a dresser, setting it on the table and gesturing at it. “Here we are. Should only take as long as you need.” And they smiled over at Agnes almost politely; the type of smile one gives a stranger they’ve accidentally made eye contact with in an elevator. They hadn’t been invented yet, so the look Agnes interpreted was that of unfounded courteousness. Strange and ill-fitting, she thought. Then again, what about this meeting wasn’t?

“Not even going to curse it yourself.” The witch snorted to herself. “Should have seen _that_ coming.” 

The comment almost seemed to bother Michael, who pretended to clean their nails. “Why waste the effort when perfectly vile demons are willing to do it for you?”

“Thank you, sir…?” The apparent demon replied somewhat dumbfoundedly, hand currently outstretched over the book. Michael loomed patiently, watching as a fine mist poured from his palm, eventually absorbing itself into the volume. “There we go. As you said. Every copy.” He smiled for the briefest moment before picking up his board and papers again, writing more. “Sign here, please?” Leaning towards Michael and offering the quill, the angel signed it with some unnecessarily loopy letters. The demon took his quill back with a nod. “Right then. I’ll be off.” And he disappeared in a small flash of green light.

About to turn back to Agnes, Michael didn’t have time to react as the witch had plucked a very thin hair needle from her thick hair and _jabbed_ it very briefly into the angel’s shoulder. Clearly not expecting it, Michael jumped and took a step back from the human with an utterly shocked expression, grabbing their shoulder to stem any possible bleeding.

Agnes tucked the needle out of sight just as quick as it had appeared. “What? You didn’t think you’d get away with cursing my life’s work without a little backlash, did you?”

Michael gaped at Agnes, mouth opening and closing like a fish for a second. “You--you _dare!_ Of all the--do you even have a concept of who I--”

“Are you done here? Because I’ve had quite enough of you and you’re no longer welcome. Weren’t to begin with, so.” She gestured to the still open door.

The archangel looked at their hand, giving it a double take when no blood came away and not even a shred of pain remained. Gathering themself, Michael straightened the frilly hem of their shirt. “Children. Utter, petulant _children._ I frankly don’t know what the Almighty sees in you sometimes.” They looked her up and down. “I believe I speak for both of us then that I hope we don’t have to meet again.”

Agnes raised her brows, looking pointedly at the door again.

Michael gave a prim little huff, smiled the fakest smile they could muster, then vanished much like the demon did in a blue flash.

Letting out a breath she hadn’t really realized she was holding, Agnes didn’t waste anymore time. The witch took the little needle out of her sleeve and dashed to a cluttered corner of her home, fishing out exactly what she was looking for and dabbing the already drying drop of otherworldly blood on the outer binding of the book. She whispered a long string of enchantments she hardly ever had occasion to use, the harsh consonants tripping out of her mouth. Blood magic was far from her favorite, considering how messy it could get, but this was far too important. She could peer into the future well enough, but this visit from an archangel and their evident cohort had not been among the things she could see. 

The drop of blood on the binding gave off a small golden hue before fading into a normal deep maroon. A heavy sigh of relief sounded from Agnes, so very thankful the hex took. She almost hadn’t believed that she’d be able to combat a demon’s magic, but even in her final hours she could evidently still surprise herself. She ran her thumb over the now dry spot, opening the back cover of the book as she grabbed a nearby quill and wrote the last bit of binding for the hex inside.

“Let he hwa hath many eyes See and cleave to mine words in this firste tome.”


	9. Chapter 9

“What if they don’t land correctly?”

Jahaziel looked up from his notepad scribblings on the Observatory mess hall counter, squinting in the direction the voice came from. His current human associates of the Royal Observatory were crowded in the dining area, cocktail party in full swing. The singular small television played news coverage quietly, spliced in from America (courtesy of Jahaziel’s personal tweaking), and Walter Cronkite chatted with a former astronaut. Not too many people were watching it at the moment, however. It wasn’t time yet, though excitement buzzed quite loudly all around. Today was the day the Americans landed on the moon. It was currently past 2 A.M. in Greenwich, London, but no one on the entire campus was asleep. England in general had become very fond of the NASA space mission broadcasts, but honestly, the concern over Ringo Starr’s tonsillitis had comparatively caused more of a national stir. The landing was too late at night for most, and many people had work or school tomorrow. 

Jahaziel, on the other hand, had _obsessed_ over this entire business. He’d listened to NASA’s radio contact since the launch, keeping up on everything minute by minute. Said radio contact currently played on his earphones from his augmented transistor radio. He hadn’t even slept. He’d worn the same gold trimmed grey v-neck since the launch itself, though he’d turned off his bodily functions for the time being. Annoying. Needless. He didn’t have time for bathroom breaks or eating - everything else was too interesting right now. “They already landed, Bodey,” he said, not impatiently. He looked back down at his notes. “Eagle lander touched down 6 hours and 17 minutes ago. Still haven’t gotten out of the capsule yet.” 

Bodey, an intern from Sutton, only contorted his face, looking back at the news coverage in confusion. “Why haven’t they gotten out then?”

A few associates shook their heads, laughing quietly. “A real eye in the sky,” chuckled Monica, the resident stellar cartographer. “Is there anything you _don’t_ know about space?”

Jahaziel opened his mouth, about to make a sassy comment, only to have his words stolen out of it. “You’d be hard pressed to find anything extraterrestrial that has escaped his attention,” said Aziraphale from the entrance of the mess hall a couple feet behind him. 

A few of the scientists nodded, waved, or quietly greeted the demon, not giving him much more thought. Fondness bloomed in Jahaziel’s chest, immersing him in a sensation not unlike a hot bath. He grinned at Aziraphale, abandoning his notes for the moment to turn and lean against the counter. He flicked out one of his earphones. (He absently figured NASA wouldn’t have Neil go out for at least another 15 minutes anyway.) “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.” 

Aziraphale tilted his head down, breathing a laugh as he walked over to Jahaziel. “Oh, how could I miss such an important event?”

Jahaziel smirked, unconsciously letting his gaze fall to Aziraphale’s mouth for a moment. How _fond_ he’d become of it, after all these years. How nice it was to know he was the cause for a large number of those smiles. How good he felt to know it would be joining them tonight. “Come now, Azzy. You wouldn’t have ever known or cared about it if it wasn’t for me.”

Though the angel’s eyes were difficult to see behind the red, Aziraphale didn’t miss the motion, his face growing warm and heart fluttering. “Certainly not,” he said almost intimately, despite the humans milling about in the adjacent area. (Not that any of the scientists cared. “Jay” and his “family line” had been a permanent feature of the Observatory - their most insightful, personable astrophysicist. And everyone just assumed the golden snake ring he wore was a wedding ring to the quirky Reverend A. Z. Fell. Correcting them, when the topic briefly arose, had seemed to conveniently slip the angel’s mind.) 

Aziraphale had actually come to the Observatory for two reasons. One was, indeed, this moon party. He was happy to let these distractions offered play out as long as possible though and take in how Jahaziel had updated his look since they last met in April in the meantime. The angel, ever dark and classy, now had circular golden rims on his red shades. His long sleeve, thin v-neck was form fitting in the best ways, and he wore tight black jeans with a gaudy golden snake clasp belt. His hair was still cut like the Beatles, but Aziraphale had gently convinced him not to keep the mustache. The demon wouldn’t admit it, but everything came back to wanting to see Jahaziel’s smiles better too.

He took a step into Jahaziel’s personal space, reaching up for the lonely earphone. “Hmm. And maybe I would care. Maybe not. But you care about it. Why should I not as well?” He tucked the little speaker into his ear, settling next to him comfortably.

Jahaziel kept his features blasé, but the proximity and words made his face _burn_ and his heart skip. Oh God above, _how he loved him._ He’d thought that simple phrase so many times, and it was more true every time. He looked the demon up and down as well, seeing he still hadn’t changed much from his favorite cream scheme. Jahaziel was particularly fond of his 1920s-style charcoal trimmed, swallowtail jacket. The beige vest and black diamond gold tie were especially handsome as well, but the jacket is what really brought everything together. And Aziraphale’s ever-present ‘40’s novelty flip-down sunglasses completely concealed his eyes, completing the ensemble. On impulse, Jahaziel wanted to flick the things open to see those ever changing blues, but he resolutely kept his hands on the edge of the counter behind him. He breathed deeply instead, having stopped smelling brimstone on the demon long ago. Couldn’t even remember what it was like anymore. Perhaps it had become a part of Jahaziel too, fading from his senses. Background noise. Much like the distant sense of despair that usually haunted his lot. Or perhaps it was just Aziraphale being that much more _pleasant_ than the rest of Hell’s numbers.

They stood together with the NASA chatter between them. Neither of them listened to it, both unwittingly thinking of things they wanted to do with one another and not doing them. They just enjoyed the stillness and closeness. Stuck in it, but not in an awkward manner. They were so comfortable with silences that those gaps blended into conversation, saying more between them than words could.

Ever since the Freemason bombing, they’d gotten much closer, pulling off capers all over the world. The Titanic sinking (Jahaziel’s fault, the demon insisted to great resistance), first World War, Great Depression, second World War, then, most recently, Vietnam. Most of them had been Aziraphale’s idea to get involved. Lauding their “interference” in such major world affairs would make them both look good to their respective sides. Usually things detailed the two of them saving poor unfortunate humans and enjoying themselves on little dates locally after. It had certainly reduced Heaven’s and Hell’s scrutiny. Jahaziel finally had his first miracle budget increase since the late 15th century, and Uriel gave him a _shade_ more slack, which had come in handy a time or two. Aziraphale had been honored (or dishonored, rather) by Beelzebub for the deaths caused in a Viet Cong sneak attack. (The demon was _not_ proud of that lie. He’d only heard about the business from a distraught third party. And rather than let it go to waste, he used it for his benefit. Probably the most ‘demonic’ thing he’d done in quite some time.)

Aziraphale would admit to no small degree of stalling on his part with all these adventures. Jahaziel never complained, trusting him implicitly that he was doing all he could. The subject of hellfire hadn’t come up in a long time, not since the sun rose after that night in 1894. Even so, they’d barely gone months without seeing one another, perhaps to make up for the lifetime Aziraphale tried to forget without him. Nothing more ever happened though, both of them afraid to burst the bubble they finally had together again. Always dancing around each other. Never meeting. Never colliding. Safe as it may have seemed, it was just so _frustrating._

Jahaziel could volley flirts with his dearest friend until the end of the world and beyond, but a small part of him still ached. Well, not really a small part, practically his whole heart did. He still wanted, even after countless years. Wanted _all_ of Aziraphale. Perhaps irrational fear and cowardice at this point kept the angel from the truth, as it did with Aziraphale as well. 

The demon had far more reason to withhold the truth. He still carried the Secret. The Secret of his fall that he didn’t and would never regret. And he was eternally fearful it could permanently destroy what they had. Realistically, he knew it wouldn’t. But it was almost a 6,000 year old secret now. Jahaziel would, at the very least, have a hard time trusting him again. And the demon simply couldn’t think about that. He’d lost him once already.

Someone said something behind them. Both supernatural entities didn’t hear it until it got louder. “Oi! Jay!” called Monica from the crowd of people around the TV. “Quit making eyes; they’re about to get out of the module!”

Jahaziel jolted at Monica’s voice, not dwelling on the “making eyes” comment because he grasped immediately what was about to happen. His eyes bugged out and jaw dropped at Aziraphale. “Oh! Oh damn! It’s time!” He took off the earphones for them both, hopping back into a sit and swinging his legs over the narrow kitchen island. He was all grins as he vaulted the couch and plopped down between Monica and Kumar, a particle physicist he worked often with. “Right, hush everyone! History about to happen here!” he called out to the people still murmuring amongst themselves in the room. He wasn’t crass enough to say “shut up,” though he had not realized yet that he’d just sworn to Aziraphale. Whoops. Quickly, everyone in the room took a spot to watch the broadcast as it shifted from Walter Kronkite to the laggy, blurred footage from space.

Aziraphale walked around the island, coming to stand behind Jahaziel as the astronaut climbed down the ladder. He didn’t know the people’s names on screen. But it was a very joyous thing to see how far humans had come, leaving the creche of earth itself. Electricity, cars, weapons, planes, and now rockets. They always were delightfully ingenious in both good and sinister ways. He was proud that Jahaziel had taken his suggestion back in Egypt so long ago, to allow himself to enjoy how humans interacted with his contribution to creation. That indulgence became a passion, now another part of why Aziraphale loved him so much, among the other innumerable reasons. He wondered, rather distantly, if any of this would even be happening without the two of them having caused such a stir so many, many, _many_ years ago.

The astronaut’s garbled voice spoke the words that would go down in history forever. Several people in the room teared up or clapped one another on the back. They hadn’t had much to do with getting the Americans up to the moon aside from liaison knowledge and cooperation, but they were still one family of science. Jahaziel wasn’t emotional for the same reasons, but he leaned back from where he’d been resting his elbows on his knees. He shook his head in awe, excitement and pride filling him to the brim. “Brilliant,” he said, his face overcome with a grin. He looked back and forth from Kumar and Monica. He wanted to say so much. To _thank_ them for giving his works such devoted attention, but he held back. “You’re _utterly_ brilliant, you know that? Just fantastic. All of you!” 

Used to such comments from him, the two humans and others around him smiled and blushed and waved him off, patting his shoulder or knee affectionately. Once everyone’s attention was back on the broadcast, Aziraphale leaned down, resting his weight on the back of the couch. The angel was just so… Well, adorable really. He had so much affection and appreciation for these humans he worked with, and Aizraphale had to wonder if they truly understood just how much it meant to Jahaziel that they were as excited as he was. It was so very sweet, and Aziraphale wanted to indulge. He was overcome with an almost desperate need to lean forward just so, nuzzle at the snake on Jahaziel’s face, and whisper sensually what he was thinking into his ear. But he _did_ have some self-control. He had to, of course. Instead, he gently touched him to get his attention. The angel looked back over his shoulder, brow raising in question. Aziraphale made a small beckoning gesture with one finger, and Jahaziel leaned back just enough to offer his ear to him in a less intimate way.

“If that is the first man on the moon, who placed the camera there?” whispered Aziraphale cheekily.

Instead of getting offended at what that implied, Jahaziel had to cover a snort and subsequent silent giggles with his hand. He took a breath, biting both lips to stop laughing. He turned back to a cheesing Aziraphale. “You’re a _menace._ Be serious,” he said under his breath.

The demon tilted his head forward again, a wisp of air escaping him to brush Jahaziel’s ear. “Mm. As you wish.” This second whisper lingered for just a moment as he stood back up again.

Jahaziel forced himself to look back at the program and not focus on the buzzing low in his spine or stomach. He crossed one leg over the other, willing his body not to react. Hadn’t he turned _that_ off, too?? _Honestly_ , he had to get a grip. There were over forty people in this room. It was the bloody moon landing. Aziraphale was just being himself, and he was very kind to come be a part of this when he didn’t have to at all. Though the notion that he’d only visited to act like _that_ was equal parts annoying (not exactly) and some level of invigorating.

Once the program ended, many milled about in conversation for a little bit longer before folks began to disperse. All that remained were graveyard shift employees whose work focused solely on the night sky. Typically Jahaziel could do his “job” at any point of the day with the enormous, building sized telescope, and he didn’t _need_ to sleep, however much he enjoyed it. But work was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

Aziraphale and he walked out of the Observatory, the July night embracing them in warmth as they walked the paths to Jahaziel’s flat.

Jahaziel turned his nose to the gentle breeze with a smile. He breathed deeply, smelling the cooling vegetation, small animals, and the faintest hint of car exhaust from people leaving. The Observatory grounds used to be in the middle of nowhere until the late 19th century. Now they sat smack dab in the center of London. Made for shit stargazing, but technology had filters developed for light pollution somewhat recently. “Thank you for coming. Really. I do hope all this didn’t take you away from anything important tonight,” Jahaziel commented. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of mandated dastardly deeds.”

Aziraphale laughed, eyeing his companion over his shades for a second. How very _different_ they were from everyone else. And yet how similar they had become to each other. The demon shook his head, humming quietly with another chuckle. “No, not as such. They don’t bother me for small assignments anymore. Not after the siege of Leningrad.”

Jahaziel’s nose wrinkled at that. “Ah no, I suppose not. Longest I’ve stayed anywhere with you abroad, I think.”

Despite the grim circumstances of the memory, Aziraphale couldn’t help the heating of his face. That tiny, cold flat had been a major test of their self control over their unknown mutual feelings. He was thankful it was too dark for Jahaziel to see his face reddening. “Hm. Yes. Well. You didn’t take me away from anything, really. Only thing I did this evening was attend a silent auction for rare artifacts. Trying to get my hands on the original _Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch._ Utter balderdash as far as prophecy books go, but it’s still eluded me for decades. This auction just had a copy published the year she died. Pity. Blood spot on the binding of the original is a dead giveaway, if my sources are to be believed.”

Jahaziel smiled at him. “You’ll find the original eventually.” He loved it when Aziraphale talked about his books. He really should have just kept his church a library or converted it into a bookshop, as much as he adored rare knowledge and original copies of things. Thinking about Aziraphale’s place and how it used to be long ago reminded him of something he’d been meaning to bring up, but had simply forgotten until now. “And say, Aziraphale.”

The demon turned to him, pausing their walk to give him a simple hum in response.

Now that he had the chance, Jahaziel wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Never mind the fact the happening in question had brought about their painful argument to begin with. “When I came to your church. The, ah. The first time. I heard you talking to that demon.” He paused to remember the name, not even realizing he hadn’t called him the ‘other’ demon. “Bifrons, was it? He called you…” And he laughed to himself, because it hadn’t even really - it just sounded so _silly_. Sharp. All corners and ill-fitting. “Azri-”

He wasn’t even able to get the last syllable out before the demon’s hand was over his mouth, lightning quick. Somewhat shocked, Jahaziel’s brows shot up.

“Please. Not from you.” And Jahaziel could see, in every one of his beautiful blue eyes, even in the darkness, the desolation that Aziraphale usually did so well to hide away. “Anyone but you.”

It seemed poor form to appreciate the warmth of the hand on his lips as he nodded, fingers sliding away with a rueful little sigh from the demon. “Understood,” Jahaziel murmured quietly. “Doesn’t fit you at all anyway. You’ll always be Aziraphale to me.”

The demon nodded slowly in return, wan smile forming. “That’s all that matters.” His given demon name was… ugly. If ironically befitting. While somewhat proud the angel had gotten a little sit-in on an impromptu sermon, he hated the fact Jahaziel had heard the name. Not that Aziraphale had intended to keep another secret from him, he just hadn’t wanted him to find out that he’d… been renamed. It was completely irrational, and he knew it. Probably the only consequence of his fall that he actually had any amount of shame for. He didn’t like being named by Hell. It was like being called a pet name by someone making unwanted advances. It just left a sour taste in his mouth.

The angel remembered something else, but from the night with the Freemasons. “I know it wasn’t on purpose. But on the subject of names… You called me ‘Hazi’, the night you rescued me.” He smiled to himself. “Can you say it again? I’d like to hear it without two lumbering idiots ruining our good time.”

Aziraphale smiled himself. “Hazi?” A chuckle. “I suppose it’s about time we get _you_ a nickname too, hm?” The response he got was an _almost_ shy smile, but nothing more. Nothing yet.

Jahaziel’s smile was that of cautious satisfaction, and he nodded distantly as the nickname settled. “It’s alright. I suppose we’ll see how it goes.”

Once they approached the flat, Jahaziel cleared his throat, shifting gears from their previous conversation. “Well, I’ve been saving a bottle of scotch from when Bushmills first opened. Seems like a good a night as any to finally crack it open, eh?”

“Er,” Aziraphale qualed, knowing his second reason for coming tonight had to be brought up sooner or later. Jahaziel led him up the stairs after unlocking the door. “That does sound like it would be quite scrummy about now,” he said, trying to force more cheer into his voice. “Ahm. But. There’s something we need to discuss before that.”

At the top of the stairs, Jahaziel looked back down at the demon as he followed. It wasn’t unusual for their meetings to serve a dual purpose, though this seemed a touch more serious than usual. Less serious than leveling a city, but more serious than arranging a simple coup. “Alright.” He opened the door to his living room and said over his shoulder, “You get settled first then.” He walked into the sparse kitchen, crouching down to open a disused cabinet with some of his oldest vintages. He found the bottle and blew off the thick layer of dust, waving it away from settling elsewhere. He stood and picked the only two bullet glasses he owned that never got dirty, miracling a ball of ice into Aziraphale’s as he walked back into the living room. What he saw made him nearly drop the glasses and 360 year old scotch.

Aziraphale stood next to Jahaziel’s dark mahogany coffee table. In his hands was an ornate and sinister-looking thin lantern with a little fire flickering inside.

Jahaziel put his things down on the coffee table in a hurry before he _did_ drop them, straightening up cautiously. He could feel the power from the tiny flame, but Aziraphale could sense how much undistilled _rage_ the hellfire gave off. To a demon, the fire felt like a sauna, bathing them in Hell’s essence. To an angel, it was enough to put one on immediate edge. Which it most certainly did. Jahaziel suddenly felt an overwhelming sensation of being _prey_ , of all things, in his own living room. He willed the sensation away to focus more on the demon once again.

“I was, ah.” Aziraphale stuttered for a second, terrified to hand this over to his dearest friend. “I wasn’t able to find any solid alternatives.” Not for lack of trying. No matter how much he looked into it, no matter how many subtle favors he tried to call in from less… obnoxious demons, there were no ways he could find to circumvent this. Jahaziel needed hellfire. To protect himself. From getting caught. “And you’ve been patient enough.” 

The weight of how much trust Jahaziel knew Aziraphale was placing on him was not missed, and his heart hammered like crazy. It rang in his ears again, like it had over the manuscripts, but this time impossible to ignore. Aziraphale was giving him every means to destroy himself and had immeasurable faith that he wouldn’t unless absolutely necessary, and that simple, incredibly difficult action was what finally broke the tethers holding back what he’d kept at bay for so long. He had to tell him. If for no other reason than his own destruction sitting innocuously on the table between them. He had to tell him before he needed to use it. He carefully took the lantern ring, brushing the demon’s hand as he did. He looked from the flame to Aziraphale before turning away to place it in a spot he’d created for it in the flat back in 1817. He swung back a large original painting he’d obtained from an old artist friend, and opened a small safe behind it. Delicately, the lantern was placed in the middle, the door closing after it and locked with a mental combination.

“You won’t have to worry about keeping it lit or feeding it oil, of course,” said Aziraphale as the angel turned back to him. The demon kneaded his hands nervously. “I--I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get it any bigger. Hell does monitor anything larger than a torch leaving its gates.”

Jahaziel barely registered walking over, relying unconsciously through dimensions on his hidden wings to carry him forward. He buzzed with energy he didn’t know what to do with, but he had to do _something._ He found himself short of breath he didn’t need. “Az… Aziraphale. I--I don’t suppose I should say thank you. But. I promise you.” He glanced back at the painting briefly, sliding off his glasses to make sure the demon knew how serious he was. “Only insurance. Only as a last resort.”

Eyes widening behind his shades, Aziraphale believed him without question. He nodded weakly, staring down at the immaculate hardwood floor.

“You didn’t have to do this for me.” Despite their argument. Despite their reconciliation. Jahaziel hadn’t _actually_ expected him to follow through. He wouldn’t have even been upset. More scared than anything, really, that he wouldn’t have a way to escape Heaven’s wrath.

“Oh,” Aziraphale drawled, waving him off with a slight flick of the wrist. “Pish posh. I told you I would. Now it’s done.”

Jahaziel stepped into the demon’s space this time. “Yes. It is.” He slowly reached up for Aziraphale’s glasses, fingers hovering at his temples, waiting for permission.

More curious than anything else, the demon closed his eyes in acquiescence, feeling his glasses slide off and into his hair. When his eyes opened again, he was being stared down by the angel, and the softest startled ‘oh’ left him. Feeling rather small in that moment, he swallowed. “Is there something else?”

“There is.” Jahaziel took a breath, fingertips of hovering hands trembling just the slightest bit as he took Aziraphale’s face into them. All four eyes steadily widened, fixated on him, and skin grew warmer under his palms. “I feel as if I don’t tell you how I feel right this instant, I might never have the chance to. I think it’s rather silly, given the fact there isn’t a whole lot on this earth that can stop me. But considering you just handed me the one thing that _could_ means that chance is far more likely than either of us want it to be.” 

Oh, oh dear. Aziraphale’s heart skipped _quite_ a few beats at that, taking in a breath. As much as he’d wanted to hear it, as _long_ as he’d been waiting for it… It was still dangerous. By now, the demon was at least reasonably certain Jahaziel was going to fall one day. Perhaps soon. Be it from his attitude towards Heaven, or something else - there weren’t words to describe how desperately Aziraphale _didn’t want_ to be that something else. He’d already protected him from that once. There was no way he’d be able to do it again. Hesitantly, he lifted a hand, placing it on the angel’s chest, over his heart. “You need to be _very_ careful about this, Jahaziel,” he warned quietly, looking into his eyes. Those handsome eyes… Which filled with a difficult look not a moment later.

“You don’t…? Am - am I wrong?” Rather than pull his hands away, Jahaziel’s thumbs brushed feather-soft under that pretty second set of eyes. “Have I been wrong this whole time? Do you not... “ He felt the confidence he’d had not a moment before shudder, threatening to break. He felt small and cold. It was now or never though. He had to know either way. He didn’t know how he was going to handle the undesired answer to this, but they’d come so far. He was in too deep. He _had_ to know. “Do you not... love me, too?”

“Oh no,” Aziraphale assured hurriedly, taking is face in turn, insides practically burning at the admission he’d just been handed so plainly. “No no no. My dearest. I do. I _very_ much do.” And he smiled at him, letting out a breath of a laugh. Confessions and thoughts he’d had said in daydreams innumerable times rose excitedly to the surface. He almost couldn’t pick one. There were _so many._ “I’ve felt this way at least since the Garden. I... Oh, it’s rather _embarrassing_ actually. All those times I got to see you… It was very difficult trying to… keep it to myself. And not think about just how _happy_ I was to see you. Because you were always in trouble, and it would have been so inappropriate…” He watched the angel’s face turn a charming shade of pink, nearly matching his glasses on the table. It allowed Aziraphale’s smile to widen, prompted to continue. “But I never stopped. Not for a moment. Not even when we fought… Oh, my beautiful, red-headed angel. Never for a single moment have you been wrong.” A breath was taken, rather short, feeling satisfied. Hands pulled back, now suddenly nervous, fiddling a little with his tie. “I… I didn’t mean to cut you off. Please, continue…?”

But Jahaziel couldn’t. He’d been rendered somewhat speechless. _Since the Garden??_ That was so long! Aziraphale had been holding onto this feeling for _almost six thousand years?!_ How ridiculous he felt only feeling this way for only a handful! How… How _dense_ he felt for not noticing! In hindsight, it was… painfully obvious. In the most _painfully cliché ways._ The glances, the lingering touches, all of it. Equally as embarrassed, he shook his head, moving his hands almost apologetically to Aziraphale’s shoulders. “I’m. I should have noticed.” He gasped softly then, grimacing as something else occurred to him. “...Oh, I really should have. All those…” All those bouts of love he felt at such inopportune times. Stars above, Aziraphale really _had_ felt things for him for a really long time. "All that _love_ I kept feeling. When things seemed so abysmal. That was _you_. I should have realized." 

“It’s bloody well time you did,” Aziraphale huffed quietly, but he was still smiling. “Better late than never though, hm?”

Jahaziel pulled his hands away finally, wringing them for a moment before fiddling with his ring. He was dense. So very dense. But apart from that, there was something else. “I think… a part of me was concerned about it. I know you don’t need me to tell you that you’re a demon. And that this is very…”

“Unorthodox?” Aziraphale completed helpfully. It stung about as much as it had when he’d first seen him again after he’d fallen, but he’d had so long to grow accustomed to the idea it was barely taken as an offense anymore. “We work so well together. And we’ve kept it a secret for this long. If we’re the only people that can keep such a secret…” He shrugged a shoulder slowly, as if considering his own suggestion. “We can make it a little more… Worth keeping. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“That… I think that’s the most ominous way anyone’s ever asked someone else to go steady. Congratulations.” Jahaziel paused, narrowing his eyes. “...You _are_ asking me to go steady, right?”

The simplest response Aziraphale could think of was to step closer, take the angel’s hands again, and kiss him. 

The contact stayed impossibly light, even now cautious. Afraid to ruin something they’d never thought possible. Jahaziel sighed at how unacceptably restrained but tender the kiss was. _Oh finally_ , he almost cried out. His eyes opened fractionally as Aziraphale pulled back, squeezing the hands in his own before letting go. He cradled Aziraphale’s face again, enjoying the warmth in his hands where it always belonged. “Well... if we’re going to make it _worth it,_ ” he murmured, his voice closer and intimate. _Suggestive_. By nature, angels shouldn't have wanted for anything. And yet Jahaziel could no longer ignore the very real and nearly desperate _want_ he felt deep within himself, only stoked further by their exchange and contact. He kissed his demon, slowly easing in every ounce of ardor and passion he’d possessed. He earned two equally eager hands bringing them together, encircling his back and waist.


	10. Chapter 10

When they finally got around to enjoying the drinks Jahaziel had set out for them (miraculously, the ball of ice hadn’t melted), the two felt as if they’d both learned and settled quite a number of things between them. Upping the ante of their ‘working relationship’ filled in a lot of things both the angel and demon hadn’t been crystal clear on, and it left them both feeling rather _soft._

Clad in a comfy loose sweater and slacks, Aziraphale had taken up his drink and was really taking the time to admire everything about the space his angel had created for himself. He’d been here many times, but never in the bedroom. It’d seemed too presumptuous before. Eyes roamed all around the walls of the bedroom, falling curiously on a framed piece above the head of the bed. It only looked faintly familiar until he noticed a smudge of ink in one of the upper corners, and a warm smile blossomed on his face. He didn’t speak on it, not right away, instead letting his mind wander back to the night Jahaziel had acquired it. Ah, Jahaziel had been so _pleased_ to get that chart. And look what it had turned into! The angel held a party for the moon landing. In an observatory that he was _renowned_ for working at. Now, the demon didn’t want to toot his own horn, but the fact that star chart _may_ have been the start of this passion really… Well. It made Aziraphale that much more endeared. Jahaziel _loved_ the stars. (Maybe he was feeling a little _extra_ amorous considering he could now number _himself_ among the things the angel loved.) 

“You know, it was a pain keeping it pristine until modern framing was invented.” Jahaziel scowled, just a bit, stepping up next to him. He was dressed similarly in his own scheme of choice, naturally. “Still can’t believe I _smudged_ it.”

Aziraphale laughed. “It makes it _distinguished._ Imagine if a scholar had found it. They’d have a field day coming up with hundreds of conspiracies about it. Who’s thumbprint is this? What does it _mean?”_ His chuckle subsided, and he sighed softly. “I’m very glad you bought it. It was wonderful to see you so happy.” 

“Mm. Well.” Jahaziel took a drink from his own glass. “A handsome demon tempted me. How could I have said no?” 

A private smile came to said handsome demon’s face, hiding it in his own drink for a moment. “You raise an excellent point, my dear.” After a moment, however, the smile faded, and he peered at the ball of ice. “But you can always say no. That’s perfectly allowed.”

Sensing something else had entered the demon’s thoughts, Jahaziel touched his shoulder gently. “I do know that, Aziraphale. But… Tell me, what’s on your mind?” Thumb brushed his cheek. “Not much you need to keep from me now, hm?”

Prickles of anxiety crawled up the demon’s spine and he felt his chest tighten a little. There was… _so_ much he could keep from him. So much he _was_ keeping from him. And, above anything else, the demon wanted Jahaziel to know that he would _understand_ if things he suggested or wanted were too much of a risk. Aziraphale was always prepared to hear a ‘no’. Apart from that, though, he should tell him. The big secret. It was time. Right. He nodded, turning towards him. “Jahaziel. I should tell you…” His words failed him, and he drew up nothing for a split second, staring at him blankly. “I. Was married.” Glass was gripped, and he internally kicked himself. That wasn’t the secret he wanted to tell him, but there was no way to backpedal from what he’d said. “F-for. For fifty-three years.” It wasn’t a lie, but it _wasn’t what he wanted to say._ “When… Ah. After our fight. And we didn’t see each other.”

To his surprise, Jahaziel only raised a brow. “Married? To who?” As if he’d know. Or maybe he would? 

“A politician. I… He was an assignment from Mammon. He was a tough nut to crack, and it turned out the only way I could really earn his trust was with this very… _involved_ long-con.” Aziraphale rubbed his forehead, irritated all his guilt had shifted from being upset he couldn’t divulge the _right_ secret to actually telling him _this_ one. “Mission accomplished, I suppose. But it was by volunteer. No commendations or anything.” 

“Oh.” Jahaziel looked into his glass, chewing the inside of his lip a bit. “That’s rather unfortunate.” Questions clawed at the back of his mind, many of which he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know the answer to. “Did you like him?” Not the word he wanted to use, but. It’d do.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Not particularly. Had to play pretend though. Some of it was… Well, nice, I suppose. But it was more to…” His mouth thinned for a moment, and he turned to face the angel fully. “I was _upset_ , Jahaziel. I _missed_ you. I needed something to keep my mind off the fact that I thought I’d never see you again.” Left to deal with all the _love_ in his heart that he, as a demon, had no real right to feel in the first place. Love that he wasn’t even _supposed_ to feel. “It certainly would have been well within your every right to shun me, given what I’d said, but I-”

“Azzy,” Jahaziel interrupted gently, gripping his arm, ”I’m not mad. I’m not--” He frowned thoughtfully, actually thinking about it. The man was certainly dead now. And while that wasn’t exactly a cause for celebration, it did ease the gentle bristle he’d felt a moment ago. And apart from that, Aziraphale had professed his love to _him_ , not some corrupt human. Love he’d had for way longer than he’d even _known_ the politician. A politician he’d only gotten to know because… Because they had an argument, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever get a chance to tell the angel how he truly felt. Jahaziel had done many, many things he hadn’t wanted to do during his time on earth. None of them were really to forget about anyone, but he’d still been driven to do terrible things by those above himself. “You don’t have to defend yourself. I’m just… very sorry things went the way they did.” He moved in again, taking one of the demon’s hands off his glass to hold it. “But it’s behind you now. And here we are.” He smiled at him, lifting the hand to kiss his knuckles sweetly. “Old age can’t take me. You’re really in for it now.” He winked over his fingers before lowering their hands, rubbing the demon’s fondly with his thumb.

More warmth pooled in Aziraphale’s chest, replacing the guilt that’d nestled itself there. This was still so very dangerous for the angel. But he couldn’t let himself think of that right now. Not when he was so perfectly charmed he wanted nothing more than to set that glass aside and kiss him silly once again. Instead he smiled at him, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath of the smell he’d come to love so much as he squeezed his hand. This angel, his best friend, and now, officially, his… er. ‘Boyfriend’ sounded so _childish._ Lovers was intimate, but didn’t quite seem to cover the extent of it. Oh well. They could figure that out at another time. When his eyes opened again, he gently clinked their glasses together. “I’ve been in it for _centuries_ already, my dear. Do keep up.”

Jahaziel rose his brow and smirked playfully, relishing how Aziraphale’s unique sense of love filled the room once again. Not quite as charged as earlier, but it gave the room a sort of comfortable _flooded_ sensation. Certainly the only kind of flooding Jahaziel considered to be good. His own feelings mingled into the room with it, creating a harmony that made his flat feel like a real _home_. The Observatory itself was the only thing that came close. But this feeling? Jahaziel could get absolutely lost in this with Aziraphale until the end of time.

 _The end of time._ Despite the sweet moment, Jahaziel looked out of one of his bedroom windows, some of London’s early morning commuter headlamps visible on the roads to the north. His lips thinned, and he thought of how much longer it would actually be until the end. Not even a proper lifetime from now, everything was supposed to go... Well. Tits up. (He supposed it was acceptable to at least think more crassly now, as long as he didn’t say it aloud. He was officially dating a demon after all.) No one knew the day or hour aside higher authorities, but everyone had a rough idea since “6,000 years” was written. Might even happen before the new millennium if they were unlucky. Something else awful occurred to him too, and he groaned aloud.

Aziraphale didn’t miss the consternation growing on his angel’s face. “What is it?”

Jahaziel glanced back at him before his face scrunched up in thought again. “I just realized that we probably won’t see the planets align before Armageddon happens.”

Aziraphale blinked his lower set before his main eyes, smiling with a fond shake of his head. Mentioning that part of the future though got him thinking along the same lines. They both fell into a similar silence over it.

Sighing, Jahaziel swished what was left of his drink around. Several things bubbled up in his throat to say, but he couldn’t pick one. Over all, he didn’t want to lose what they now had. New as it was, it had taken so many thousands of years to finally come together.

Equally unwilling to relinquish what they’d finally achieved, Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. “Well.” The syllable was spoken with no amount of uncertainty, and he smiled bravely at the angel. “We do what we always do, hm?”

The face Jahaziel made at him was difficult to decipher, as if he hadn’t considered the possibility that it _could_ be stopped. “You can’t be serious.” While he had to admire his determination - in fact, it was probably one of the things about him Jahaziel found most attractive - it was… _laughable_ to think that… “The two of us. You actually think we can do something to stop it. I don’t even - _no one_ apart from the Almighty herself knows exactly what’s going to happen. Or how it’s going to happen. Something about the Antichrist. But that’s all that I know.” And he paused, staring at Aziraphale for a moment. “Wait. You… You want to stop it. Armageddon.” 

The demon looked gently taken aback. “You don’t?”

“Of course I do! I just - I thought that maybe--” He grimaced, practically with his whole body, wiping his hand down his face. It felt trite to mention it again. “You’re… You’re a demon. Mayhem and chaos and all that.”

Aziraphale laughed. “Yes. I haven’t forgotten.” Jahaziel laughing quietly with him at that, the sound subsiding after a moment. But Aziraphale looked into his glass, then to the framed star chart, then back to the angel again, determination shining in all four of his eyes. “Earth is the only place I have that I can be with you. Between Heaven and Hell, I’ll stand and defend it.” 

As if he weren’t already in enough latent trouble to begin with for having done _those_ kinds of things with a demon, Jahaziel dared to think Aziraphale had never seemed sexier in the moments he did speaking out against the powers that be. He stepped up close, taking his hand once more and squeezing it. If selfishness was the demon’s only motivation, then so be it. If the consequence of his selfishness was billions of human lives being saved, then it was a truly miraculous coincidence. He kissed the back of his hand like he had before, letting himself appreciate the warmth beneath his lips for the long moment they stayed there. The kiss was different this time. Hand-kissing had always seemed such an intimate thing to him, but the language this kiss spoke was not of tenderness and intimacy. It was of strength and reassurance. Unyielding loyalty. It was a promise. “Between Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale. I’ll stand with you.”


	11. Chapter 11

The early morning hours gave way to nearly noon, and the angel and the demon were crowded around the dark coffee table. Coffee had replaced the scotch a few hours ago, and had invited numerous pages of notes and crumpled papers to the mix. 

“So, it’s got to be-” Jahaziel scribbled what looked like a rather rudimentary diagram onto the remaining blank corner of their current sheet of paper, “- something like this, definitely.”

The demon took the paper, holding it up, and squinting at the scribble. “...What is it, exactly, that you’ve drawn?”

“The Antichrist! Look, see-” Jahaziel took the paper back, adding more lines and, for some reason, devil horns. “Couldn’t be more evil. Look. Horns and everything.”

Aziraphale frowned, looking between the paper and Jahaziel. “...You think it’ll have horns?”

“No, I don’t bloody think it’ll have _horns_ , you’re not _looking_ at the rest of it.” Jahaziel pulled a few more papers out from the stacks, arranging them just-so on the table. What was revealed was… certainly something. It detailed the two of them, with the ‘Antichrist’, somewhere in London. 

It actually worried Aziraphale, just a little bit. “Traditional place is supposed to be that valley near Megiddo. However that’s only one prophecy. All the signs and slightly more accurate prophecies point to it somewhere… bigger. You think it may happen here in London?” He sipped his coffee. “Not exactly the epicenter of the world. You’d think someplace even bigger than here. More collateral damage. More humans punished.”

The angel raised a brow. “You think?” He rubbed his mouth, leaning back a little, looking at what he’d put together. It was a miracle itself the two of them could work together on this. Aziraphale gave him insights he wouldn’t have considered normally or would have even known about. “And you’re sure it won’t happen in Megiddo? That prophecy’s supposed to be ‘iron clad,’ isn’t it?”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. “Not as such, no. Prophecies are fallible by nature. Not all of them can guess things entirely right. Haven’t found a tome on earth to do that yet. And I only think someplace bigger because… Well. This is about the end of the world. But it seems rather silly to just… I don’t know. Eliminate all of humanity as ‘atonement for their sins.’ At the risk of sounding _evil_ that seems rather lackluster, especially when it comes to our respective offices.” 

A pensive sort-of hum left the angel, nodding as he took a drink of his own coffee. “You’d almost think that preventative measures would be taken on my side. They _are_ supposed to be protecting humanity and this planet.”

“You’d think that, yes…” This worried the demon further and after a brief moment he sat up straighter, setting down his coffee to look through more of the discarded papers. And his stomach sank. “...Oh. Oh dear.”

Jahaziel looked over at him, then to the paper he held. “What? What’s ‘oh dear’?”

Aziraphale’s voice was grave. “Why would they prevent something they want to happen?”

Serpent eyes stared at him for a long moment before realization dawned over them. “They want a reason to fight.” Jahaziel pulled two more papers out of the pile, one with a drawing of Heaven, the other with Hell. He placed them above and below the assembled papers of them with the Antichrist in London, then slowly brought them together, covering the drawn figures. They fit together almost eerily well, and Jahaziel let out a breath, leaning back.

“It isn’t about ending humanity,” the angel realized aloud. ”It’s about _fighting_ over it. They want a war. Earth is just the battleground.” 

They were silent for a good few minutes, looking at what they’d put together on the table. It was overwhelming, to say the least. Aziraphale took up his coffee again, taking another drink. “Do we cut it off at the pass?” He asked quietly, shifting the papers around to expose the doodle of the Antichrist. He flipped it over slowly. “No Antichrist, no Armageddon.” 

Jahaziel shook his head slowly. “If we can find out where it is, maybe. Where it’ll be brought to earth.” It almost made sense to him, that they’d fight on earth. Everything he’d witnessed up to this point had been a little telling. The Flood. Egypt. Sodom and Gomorrah. All miniature versions of what was going to happen. For the longest time, it was easy to ignore. Four thousand years ago, it was a minor annoyance, like a doctor’s checkup. Today, it was more real than it ever had been, and the angel had to do battle with the lackadaisical attitude he’d had towards it for so long. Not to mention, he had a newfound romance that had been simmering practically since he’d been _put on earth_ to worry about. Frowning, he let his cheek rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder, a quiet sigh leaving him as his arm snaked to curl around Aziraphale’s almost stubbornly. He didn’t want to think about it, but they absolutely had to.

“...We _will_ win, you know.” He didn’t bother moving from where he was, the comfort Aziraphale offered simply by being there and allowing him this was making the inevitable - the _ineffable_ \- just that much easier to swallow. It wasn’t a thought he liked very much, but really, it was the only possible outcome. “Heaven. Why would they even start a war if there was a possibility for them to lose.”

The demon planted a gentle kiss in Jahaziel’s hair. His own thoughts on the situation were similar, though he had been more in the dark than Jahaziel had. It did make a lot of sense to him too, that earth would be where they decided to have a war. It was as neutral a ground as any when all was said and done. And once the Antichrist took care of humanity, however it was going to do that, the playing field would be entirely even. But it made even more sense that their victory was assured for exactly the reason his angel voiced. This was… Not looking ideal. War never was. Hand left his coffee cup to squeeze the arm linked with his reassuringly, despite the direness of his own thoughts. “We’ll figure it out, Hazi. We always do.”

That made the angel smile, and he believed him. Of all things, it was the nickname that soothed him most. “Oh... I do like that...”


	12. Chapter 12

The smells of the newest artisanal bakery a couple blocks away from the Church of St. Fell had been filling Aziraphale’s nose and thoughts since last Monday. Now, early on a dreary Saturday evening in 2009, he couldn’t help but take a stroll up the A201 to Apothecary Street. He spotted a nearby little bookshop shutting off its lights just before the owner stepped out, closing up for the night. She noticed him as he passed by and inclined her head. He smiled happily back, fond of anyone that worked at any of the bookshops or study cafes he’d invested in over the last ten years. He didn't know many of the humans by name, but he always could tell which of them worked at one of his shops, even if they’d never met before. They all knew him by sight as well—their mysterious but benevolent benefactor. They didn’t get a lot of business anymore, but it didn’t matter to him. This was one aspect of the world he didn’t want to go extinct due to the Digital Age. And damned if anyone was going to stop him from preventing it.

The little haven of baked delectables however was quite busy, the weather being what it was. It extended far back into the building and had a very homey vibe, unlike most bakeries that popped up here and there. They used antique designed wood molding but with light staining, old fashioned decorations that looked like they came from a museum, and even had fairy-like oil lamps hanging over the tables. Everything pulled together to look almost like it was out of a happy storybook. He believed it was part of their gimmick - old fashioned British desserts with modern options sprinkled in. He neglected to look at the name of the place, but he knew he’d pick it up with pure repetitive visits. He would _make sure_ this delightful spot stayed in business.

As he waited in line, he took in the parade of dessert examples behind the glass display, and he could have shed a tear. Fruit fool cups, knickerbocker glories, _toffee pudding_ , and even syllabub. He hadn’t seen any place carry syllabub - real _proper, drinkable_ syllabub and not a sad dollop in a flat dish - in over two hundred and thirty years. A young woman in front of him pointed at one of the more modern desserts, a cupcake with nothing short of a _mountain_ of frosting on it. Aziraphale immediately changed his mind from toffee pudding, ordering a tall mango syllabub and cookie dough cupcake when it became his turn.

He spotted an unoccupied booth in the very back, smiling to himself as he smelled the mango in his hand. He took a seat facing the rest of the shop, placing his desserts down in front of him, mouth watering in anticipation.

He didn’t even get to take a sip before he smelled something wrong. Two somethings he knew _definitely_ didn’t belong in a bakery were the unfortunate source. Turning his face toward the wall to hide a vicious scowl, he reoriented his expression into neutral as he looked to his left. “Ah. Hello gents. You’re a trifle, er, early, aren’t you?”

Hastur and Ligur stuck out like the biggest sore thumbs known to man in this cheerful bakery. They could feel this too, looking askance at the customers eyeing them. They both acknowledged Aziraphale gruffly before taking their seats across from him. Neither of them had their head animals with them, but they still looked utterly ratty. Honestly. He knew Hell wasn’t big on appearances, but would it kill them to _try?_ “We’re on time, Azrikam,” Ligur said, his voice gravelly and conspiratorial as usual. He hadn’t bothered to hide his chameleon eyes, which Aziraphale found to be shoddy workmanship. But then again, Ligur hadn’t achieved his position by fiddling with his appearance.

Hastur’s upper lip lifted off his disgusting teeth. “Do we _really_ have to meet in a place so… cheerful? Someone from the other side could see us in here. You couldn’t have picked a back alley? Like a respectable demon?”

“Yeah,” added Ligur, practically squirming. “My Satan, I’d gladly take behind a dumpster over this.”

Aziraphale smiled through his irritation and disgust, swallowing the new nausea growing in his throat. He huffed a laugh as if the two of them were missing the obvious. “Ah but don’t you see? What angel in all the vast expanses of Heaven would believe that three demons would meet in a bakery?” He implored them with a sort of ‘Well?’ look. “We couldn’t be more concealed, I assure you.”

The two of them looked at each other, considering that silently. “Very well,” said Hastur. “Let us recount the deeds of the day.”

Aziraphale wanted _nothing more_ than to _not_ do that, but tradition was bloody tradition with demons. He didn’t really listen when the two of them described with relish the humans they fucked over today. When it came to be his turn, he made up something from a headline he saw in the paper that morning. Something about getting a notorious train robber out of jail and back into the world to wreak havoc. In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have chosen a random event without researching the real cause. If he took credit for something someone else Downstairs did, it’d call his credibility into question. Fortunately, it was indeed just random, and the two seemed delighted enough at it to get off his back. (He could have brought up his recent investments in the budding business around town as well, but the pair were sated enough - and frankly, Aziraphale didn’t feel like _explaining_ it to them.)

“Now,” said Ligur, lowering his voice further. 

“To business,” finished Hastur creepily. 

_They definitely spent too much time lurking together,_ thought Aziraphale. Unable to hide a twitch of his lip, he sighed and looked at his watch. “Can we make this brief? I have a - er - tempting to get to by 8.” He also wanted to order Jahaziel something with strawberries before he left, considering the angel was the only person Aziraphale intended on tempting since perhaps the dawn of earth.

“Oh, it can wait,” assured Hastur eagerly. Ligur brought up a basket from seemingly nowhere and set it on the table by the wall.

Doing his damnedest not to let his emotions show, Aziraphale could have jumped out of the booth and ran out of the building in that moment. He was thankful for his shades in these moments, because his eyes utterly bugged out at the basket that sat as innocently as possible before him. He swallowed thickly, his guts falling into his feet and making him sweat ice. “No.” He looked between the pair and the basket, utterly crestfallen. “Already?”

“Yes,” echoed both demons simultaneously.

“I thought.” He cleared his throat and looked between them both. “I thought this wasn’t going to fall to our department.”

Ligur smiled darkly. “Lord Beelzebub pulled a few strings.”

“Wanted to give the responsibility to the only demon that has been in too many human wars to count,” growled Hastur, and Aziraphale could pick up all too easily the poorly concealed jealousy. “Should have had you in Satan’s own court. Everyone agrees there isn’t anyone else better to do it.”

_’Lucky me’,_ thought Aziraphale bleakly.

Ligur pushed the basket closer to him on the table. A muffled coo came from it that made the (infinitely better dressed) blonde demon shiver. “Lucky you.”

Aziraphale felt like the floor was falling away from him. He hadn’t been expecting this today. Well, he _had_ been expecting this to happen, but he didn’t think he’d be involved at all. While he was terrified at the prospect of being an actual instrument of Armageddon, plans he’d made with Jahaziel so many years ago resurfaced just as quickly. He licked his lips nervously, looking between the two of them once again.

“You don’t seem as… excited as we thought you would.” Ligur leaned forward, face next to the basket as he slid a contract over the table. “This is an _honor._ ”

Aziraphale did not miss the same jealousy he’d felt from Hastur now oozing from practically every pore on Ligur’s body, and he straightened his back a little in his chair, trying to appear offended as he produced a pen from his coat pocket, signing the document lazily. “My dear fellow.” His words were stunted. Rude. (He didn’t need to _pretend_ with that.) “Excitement is for children and ignorant fools. This is a matter of seriousness.” He looked down his nose at him, huffing through it quietly and simply willing the pen away after dotting the ‘i’ rather aggressively as if to prove a point. “I am… greatly honored. I just had _other plans._ ” 

He said nothing about just what his plans were, but still the two demons across from him shared a look with each other that set off quite a few warning bells for Aziraphale. He remained as resolute as possible, standing and curling his hand around the handle of the basket. He nodded curtly before taking it to the counter to ask for his food to be boxed up, and ordering a strawberry crumb bar for his angel. By the time he turned around to watch the young girl behind the counter collect his food, the dastardly pair were gone.

With a gracious nod of thanks he took the small bag given to him, careful not to jostle it or the basket too much as he stepped outside. Once he felt the fresh air around him, his eyes closed, and he took in a deep breath. Let it out slowly. Surprising even himself, it wasn’t a frustrated scream. Figuring a baby, let alone a literal Hellspawn, wouldn’t mind sharing a roomy basket with some goodies, he slipped his leftovers and gift into the basket next to the Antichrist, not bothering to look inside. Hand now free, he moved himself to a defunct telephone booth, stepping inside and picking up the receiver. The line had been cut, but that didn’t matter. He dialed the phone, looking through the dingy windows to the meager foot traffic outside, and once he deemed it appropriate to do so, he stepped back out again - receiver propped on his shoulder as the line rang, and he began walking. 

“Oh, do pick up.. Please, it’s _so_ important…”

It rang for nearly a minute.

“You’ve got Jay,” came a chipper, familiar voice from the other end of the line.

“Jahaziel,” Aziraphale breathed, his footfalls more rushed than they ever had been, making haste as he headed towards the Observatory. He may have been using a bit of a miracle or two to quicken his pace even further, but there was no time to spare. “I - we have a.. An issue. And I’d dearly love your help with it, my dear, if you are not too busy today.”

“Azzy?” Jahaziel’s tone quieted, and Aziraphale guessed someone else could have possibly been in the flat with him. Or was this the number to the observatory? Oh hell, he could _never_ remember them, they were far too similar. “An issue?” A pregnant pause haunted the demon for a few moments. “... _The_ issue?”

“Quite so, I’m afraid.” Humans around him passed in a blur, his own presence shrouded by his demonic camouflage. He moved like high speed oil in the slow cogs of mid-evening London, half out of nerves and half to just get this over with as quickly as possible. “I didn’t - I didn’t think it’d be _today._ Oh, we had _plans_ \- I have a treat for you.” He was pouting now, nearing an emotional breaking point. It was just so _unfair_ to them. Nevermind humanity, for just this one selfish moment.

“We... Well. Desperate times. Lucky we had all these extra years as is. Thought it would all happen during Y2K. Or the 2004 tsunami. A perfect 6,000 years after the beginning.” Jahaziel was rambling, but he seemed to be holding together for the bigger picture much better than Aziraphale was. “Do you have a plan?”

“I was thinking of showing up at yours.” Jahaziel didn’t sound otherwise preoccupied, so he hazarded a guess that his flat is where he’d be. “If you don’t mind it. I would very much appreciate your help.”

“Of - of course. Aziraphale. Yes, of course.” The demon heard some noise on the other end of the phone, fabric shuffling and keys jingling. “How soon are you able to get here?”

Hand was outstretched to knock just as the door to the flat opened, and the pair shared a brief moment of surprise before Aziraphale smiled sheepishly, phone still at his ear. “Well. _Now,_ I suppose.”

Jahaziel hadn’t even gotten his coat or his glasses, which were hooked onto his button up. He tapped his phone off on his end, and the receiver Aziraphale held crumbled away the moment he lifted his head. The demonic energy holding it together gave out entirely, unneeded.

The angel donned his coat and slid on his glasses after pocketing his phone. “That the treats?” 

Aziraphale blinked then realized he hadn’t actually clarified on the phone. “Oh. Uh. Yes and no. They’re in there. But. Ah. So is the Antichrist. You were right back then.” He smiled nervously, trying to verbally give the angel a pat on the back for his proper guess. ”London, after all.”

Jahaziel swallowed and stared at the basket with a combination of realization and a touch of fear. Some colour trickled from his face. “ _Oh._ ”

“Yes.” Aziraphale reached under the lid again to pull out the brown paper sack, holding it out to him. “I… I haven’t looked inside. That makes it real, right?” He got quiet. Now that the rush of getting here was over, he felt the anxiety of the situation creep in. It was so unlike him to be so… unseated. But this was a level of intensity he had not yet encountered, and he simply hadn’t been ready for it. “Of course it’d be me, wouldn’t it? Reports have been too successful, I suppose.”

Jahaziel put a hand on his shoulder calmly after leaning into his flat to put the doggy bag onto a small table, turning Aziraphale’s face away gently with the other. The demon had seemed so reluctant to see just what was in the basket that Jahaziel figured to spare him as he himself peeked inside. Blinking in the light, the tiny infant gazed up at him. The angel shivered involuntarily - the baby seemed _normal._ It bothered him more than it ought to have. He expected glowing eyes. Hooves. A pair of horns, like he had drawn. Something to indicate that this was the Antichrist. It would have made things so much easier. What disconcerted him the most though was that he couldn’t feel a shred of evil either. Nevermind the physical, a being so inherently powerful should have given off _something_ of its vile nature. “It’s certainly… a baby.” He stepped back, reaching to close the door before Aziraphale looked up with a hurt expression. A veritable four-eyed puppy was staring at him dolefully.

“Please… bring the snacks.”


	13. Chapter 13

Disappointed he couldn’t even enjoy the treats he bought for himself, Aziraphale sipped the syllabub sadly. Best not let it go to waste. He recalled what little of the contract he’d read, glancing over at Jahaziel. “We’re to take him to a hospital.”

Jahaziel drove, of course. Aziraphale had never been in control of anything more exciting than a stagecoach, and preferred to keep it that way unless absolutely necessary. There was some (probably) irrational fear in his heart of being able to cause more harm than good possessing the ability to pilot upwards of two tons of steel, so he’d simply never learned. Walking never failed him, and when long distances were the norm he would simply fly or teleport. But he was grateful now for the sunflower-yellow Volkswagen Beetle the angel had picked up sometime in the early sixties. He’d often admire just how _fitting_ the vehicle was for him. Bright and sunny, much like his general disposition, and Jahaziel had a particular love for it that Aziraphale sometimes feared rivaled the love he had for the demon himself.

“A hospital,” Jahaziel echoed, looking over at him. “That’s rather vague. There’s a million of them in the country. Be a _little_ more specific?” He sounded terse, but his apprehension was not Aziraphale’s fault. He _knew_ this was coming. Like the demon, he just had wished for more time.

“I’m waiting for further instruction.” Aziraphale sighed quietly, very much over the tense air in the car. He cracked the window a little bit, wincing as the angel wove in and out of traffic in their haste - he had never cared much for Jahaziel’s driving, but he could not argue that wherever they were going, the angel could get them there quickly. 

Jahaziel began speaking again, and as Aziraphale tried to focus on his words, he felt a tingling in his lower set of eyes. Closing the top pair, and flipping up the darker lenses, he looked over at Jahaziel and scowled. Under him, and not matching what he was saying at all, letters began floating in his vision, arranging themselves into words. Demonic subtitles. _Perfect._

“ _Azrikam_ ,” he read almost monotonously, interrupting the angel, “ _the Tadfield hospital is where you are to take the Antichrist. The Chattering Order of St. Beryl’s nuns will receive him from you and place him in the arms of those who will raise him to greatness._ ” 

Aziraphale made a face, his voice returning to normal for a moment. “That’s a little self-assured.” 

“ _Do you have some reason to believe we won’t be triumphant, Azrikam?_ ” the words read. He didn’t repeat these. The demon huffed, somewhat irritated he could be heard during this line of communication. He could even feel some of the distant wrath seeping into the air around himself. “ _Your glorious tenure on earth notwithstanding, I would very much like if I didn’t have to question your faith in me. Especially now._ ”

“No,” Aziraphale said simply, trying his damnedest to come up with something believable to convince _Satan_ of all beings on the spot. “No, you have no reason to. The world is simply… not primed for this. As far as the current global state of events. Too peaceful.” Jahaziel raised a brow at this one-sided argument, but didn’t comment. It unsettled him, more than anything, to realize that he was practically sitting next to the Dark Lord himself. The thought made him shrink a little, as if he could be seen somehow.

“ _Good. Precisely what my son is there to change. The greater the peace, the more successfully debilitating the war will be. That time will come. And it will be nigh in his tenth year, as we all well know. Go forth and set this in motion. We are counting on you._ ”

Of course they were.

“Tadfield. Tadfield…” Able to focus on Jahaziel again, Aziraphale felt tingling in all of his eyes now, shaking his head and rubbing them once. Opened again, the words had vanished, as had the feeling of suspicion and anger that Satan always left behind. Before the sensation faded, he’d been given coordinates, and some further info. He flipped down the lenses again, a quiet huff of irritation leaving him. At least their car ride was no longer bugged. “Right, alright. I have the exact destination.”

He recited the coordinates to Jahaziel, who only took a moment to change the course of the Beetle slightly. Coordinates were something he was intimately familiar with, and the pair were on track in no time. Still, the angel wondered if there was anything that could be done about this other than following orders. Or flat out stalling. Ideas rolled in his head as they drove, but nothing really jumped out at him as good enough. Quiet for a time, one did come though, and he spoke calmly as city turned to countryside around them. “We could get rid of him.”

Aziraphale’s brows drew together, and he looked over at the angel. “Get rid of him? You’d prefer to just _leave_ him somewhere else?” 

“Didn’t say that.” Jahaziel clicked his tongue. “We could. _Get rid_ of him.”

The demon didn’t quite follow for a moment before all four of his eyes widened. “You want to kill him.” In response, Jahaziel shrugged vaguely. “You can’t be serious. It’s - he’s a _baby_.” 

“Yes yes, just the _Antichrist_ , your everyday, ordinary child. Aziraphale--” He looked over at him then. “I’m the last person to advocate killing. _Much_ less children. But this might be the only chance we have.” 

Aziraphale thought on it. He thought back to some of their earlier encounters. He saw the moment of terror the potter’s daughter held in her eyes before she was - well. Murdered by Sandalphon. The _anguish_ in Jahaziel’s eyes following. It was indeed unlike him to suggest killing a child, and for the briefest of moments the demon considered strongly what he was suggesting. But he shook his head. There _had_ to be another way. “We can’t. There is something else we can do, Jahaziel. I just know there is.” Far be it from him to be optimistic or hopeful when it came to matters of Heaven and Hell, but to Aziraphale, it was just unimaginable that there were _no_ other options. “You’ve trusted me for this long. Please, just. Just a little longer.” He may not have been able to come up with an alternate option for the hellfire, but on this one, they _had_ to think of something.

They made it to the hospital not a couple minutes later. The expansive building that housed the Chattering Order of St. Beryl loomed unassuming in front of the car, yet still managed to give the demon a bit of a chill as they rolled to a stop. An ambulance and another car were already parked in the front, kept company by a simple looking man pacing back and forth under the eaves of the back entrance. Aziraphale looked between the car and ambulance, getting an altogether _bad_ feeling. He almost felt like he was missing something. Why was the ambassador so… _commonly_ dressed? He’d never met anyone high up in any government that had just come from an airforce base looking like he’d been in slippers reading the evening paper not ten minutes prior.

Deciding it was a detail he shouldn’t get hung up on at the moment, he undid his seatbelt and reached into the back for the basket handle. “Wait here, dear.” He strode inside after a nod from Jahaziel, largely ignoring the ambassador’s questions. (Or whatever undercover guard they were supposed to be. The less the humans here that remembered this night in general, the better.) 

Standing just inside the doorway, Aziraphale leaned back on the closed door. This was it. He was about to hand off the biggest key to saving the world from utter destruction. In the sparse few moments he hesitated, he wondered if there really _was_ some weight to the plea he’d made to Jahaziel for them to consider any other path. Surely, there had to be. Killing an infant, Antichrist or no, _demon_ or no, just wasn’t the solution.

Grabbing the first nun he saw, she didn’t react properly to who he was until he tilted his head back, letting her see his lower pupils glow faintly in his _total_ irritation with this whole affair. The satanic nun, Sister Mary Loquacious, almost started panicking as a physical symptom of the demonic display. But her anxiety turned to reverence in a literal snap - there wasn’t time for that. He handed the baby off, to which she immediately _cooed_ over. He fought off a shudder. Damn satanic cults. Their unhealthy levels of obsession with an evil lord that didn’t give two shits about them was always disconcerting. He left in short order after that, unwilling to actually witness any of the happenings. The less he saw, the better. At least he figured as much.

Two demons that had similar feelings toward the order but more excitement over this entire affair were waiting just down the hallway, watching the exchange with intense scrutiny. “See?” Hastur said quietly to his cohort. “He clearly doesn’t care. Didn’t give her instructions. Didn’t say anything.”

“Glad we decided to step in,” growled Ligur. “Something’s off about him. Never been the same since the Trojan war.”

Hastur scoffed. “Please. You didn’t know him back at Gomorrah. Always had a feeling he’s been embellishing how well he performs his work up here.”

As Aziraphale left, the two followed Sister Mary into the nursery silently. Two other newborns were already inside with a third hospital pram in the corner. They came up behind her as she set the Antichrist in the third pram, bringing him over in line with the other babies. She didn’t have time to react to them as Ligur flicked the side of her face, rendering her unconscious. Hastur caught the Antichrist’s pram, hardly jostling it as she fell to the floor. “Let’s make sure our master’s son actually gets into the right hands,” the duke of hell murmured. 

Ligur hesitated, eyes moving between the infants. “Is that the right one?”

Hastur blinked at him, looking down at the prams. “Yes. She just moved this one here.”

“Wait, are you sure? There was only supposed to be one other infant.”

Thinning his lips, Hastur looked at all three of the lightly wiggling or otherwise fussing babies. They looked fully identical to his eye. “Um. No. I’m positive it’s this one,” he said, pointing correctly to the Antichrist on the right end of the prams. As if they had tracks to cover, Ligur arranged a spare blanket into another empty pram, shuffling it up with them. 

“What?” He demanded defensively as Hastur eyed him. “There’s a third, for Satan’s sake. Can’t be too careful.” 

They slunk down the halls to the door being guarded by two burly security agents, who were compelled not to look at them as the two demons opened the door with the pram before them. Inside, the ambassador's wife was asleep soundly, live chatter from her laptop idly playing and serving largely as just pointless _noise_ for the moment. Three nuns divesting themselves of birthing gear looked up at them, quickly grasping what they were witnessing. They whispered infernal curses over themselves, the oldest of them stepping forward. “M-my lords. We. We were expecting--”

“Master Azrikam,” drawled out Hastur. “We know.”

“Been a change of plans. For insurance purposes,” said Ligur, smiling nastily at Hastur’s side. He really wanted to be the one to hand over the pram, but he’d already had his share carrying the baby up from Hell itself. No cause to get greedy now. “Need to have things done right.”

The eldest sister bristled at that, folding her arms. “We weren’t informed of this. And you’re late on top of it all. Who is your superior?”

“The only two authorities higher than me, tiny worm, are a prince of hell and the King of the Damned himself. Unless you want to take it up with either of them,” Hastur paused, raising his brow and tapping grimy fingers on the rim of the pram, “this is the new procedure.”

The other two nuns looked at the ambassador’s wife, more than obviously afraid she’d wake up.

“Don’t worry about her,” said Ligur. “She won’t remember anything if she does come to. Especially not what her real child looks like.”

The eldest almost cautiously stepped forward and rolled the pram over to the ambassador’s wife’s bedside, going right back to nattering on with her fellow sisters. And once they looked back, the demons were already gone down the hall. 

Ligur grinned, his eyes rapidly changing colors. “We’re a part of history now.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Hastur hissed. “No one can know we interfered. _No one._ ” Though he couldn’t fight off an ugly smile of his own. “Heh. But _yes,_ ” he breathed. “We did our rightful part.”

Down the hall, Sister Mary Loquacious awoke from her demon-induced ‘sleep’, standing and looking around the room entirely befuddled as to what just happened. Still somewhat woozy, and not entirely paying attention, she grabbed the nearest pram hastily - what had been, to her (incorrect) knowledge, the one containing the Antichrist, and pushed it down the hall as she cleared her head. 

Without fuss, the guards let her in with the pram. No other nuns were present, which concerned her for all of a moment. Busy night, she reasoned. Would make sense they all wouldn’t be gathered in here nattering on and waking up the mum prematurely. After a quick, final coo, and a pinch to those adorable little footsie-wootsies, she swapped the prams and exited rather quickly.

“Taking him again?” came a confused voice from behind her. 

Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled primly at the guard. “Forgot to weigh him. Mummy will want to know exactly how big her little sweetiekins is, hm?” Without justifying her actions any further, she continued down the hall, utterly pleased with herself.

Once she had returned the pram to the room she’d woken up in, (without so much as a second glance), she quickly headed off towards the records room to fuddle up whatever needed to be fuddled to pull this off. The Antichrist was soon (wrongly) collected, and delivered to the unexpected guest mother down the hall, and the unexpected guests’ child would go to live a life of luxury never meant for him. (And the fate of the third infant, along with the blanket in the spare pram, were largely unimportant.)

Just as the two demons were about to leave the building, the eldest nun from before flagged them down. “Now you! You wait there a moment!” She pointed a wrinkled finger at them as she stalked towards them, face full of unrighteous fury. 

The two demons glanced between one another, Hastur’s lip curling just a bit.

“Can we _help_ you?” Ligur asked lazily, already bored with the hospital scenery. 

“Firstly you can _apologize_ for making us wait!” Her voice was shrill, even as she got closer. “Secondly, you can _count on_ me talking to your superior about this! Even if I have to talk to the Devil himself, I will! Just who do you think you are, making us wait like that! The _disorganization_ \--”

The rest of her shrieking was almost entirely drowned out by a deafening boom. The building shook from the impact of the lightning that struck a weathervane on the rooftop, setting it ablaze almost immediately. It spread unnaturally fast, and as the nun turned back to them, she dropped dead on the spot. The pair turned on their heels, stalking out the doors. 

“Glad we never have to work with _them_ again,” Ligur grumbled. “Right headache.”

“What a pity it took lightning this long to strike,” Hastur agreed with a grin.

Ligur chuckled; a wet, ugly sound. “Yeah. Hope she doesn’t end up in our department’s soul stores either.” They were about to sink into the ground just outside the gates of the order when Ligur tilted his head, eyeing Hastur. “What if he beat us to it?”

The duke blinked, turning to Ligur. “What do you mean?”

“Two other babies. Should’ve only been one. Why two? In that same room? Think the one we had in the basket was normal and one of the others was the master’s son?”

Hastur frowned, looking out at the dark landscape, the sound of crackling timber and shouting voices coming from behind them. He scrunched his nose. “No. He might have gone native a long time ago, but… no.” They started to sink into the ground back to Hell. “It was still a hospital. Bound to be more infants,” he said before their heads sunk. He was confident Azrikam wasn’t entirely for Hell anymore, but he didn’t think the lesser demon would go _that_ far to sabotage his own side. Nor did Hastur think he was smart enough to do that. Didn’t fit. If so, he’d no longer be able to stay up here in the bloody cold.


	14. Chapter 14

Their car ride was filled with silence, neither of the two really knowing what to say. 

Aziraphale, as usual, was the first to break it. “I appreciate you driving, Jahaziel.” It really wasn’t something he ought to thank him for, all things considered. But even so.

“Yeah.” A pause. And, almost as an afterthought: “Of course.”

The demon frowned, gazing out the window. He hated thinking Jahaziel was _mad_ at him. For getting these orders. For following through with them. For not killing the baby. For _asking him to drive._ For letting him down. 

Jahaziel was not mad at him. He could never be mad at Aziraphale for simply _doing his job._ Despite everything: their capers, their similarities, their relationship - he was still a demon. Jahaziel accepted that even from the beginning. He accepted he might not agree with things Aziraphale did or said. He accepted him, _loved_ him as a whole being, faults and all. Even if the only thing that made his faults _faults_ was the fact Aziraphale had gotten into trouble for them.

“I’m not mad, Aziraphale.” Free hand sought one of the demon’s, finding it and lacing their fingers together with a quiet sigh. “I promise you. I’m not mad at you.” He was mad that… that he had to do that. Deliver the sodding Antichrist. It wasn’t fair. He reasoned, though, that had Aziraphale not been chosen to deliver him, they wouldn’t have nearly as much of a chance to do something about it. Truly, a blessing in disguise.

A hand squeeze was shared between them. Aziraphale looked over, finding now as good a time as any to admire the way the angel looked in the pale glow of headlights reflecting on the road. He looked serious. Quite a good look on him, current circumstances ignored. He admired his eyes, bare in the evening. The way his jaw set _just so_ when he was thinking. His longer hair, even, that had taken the demon a bit to get accustomed to again after his shorter cuts from the 60s to 90s. This shoulder length one suited him very well, he thought. And his style of dress was much more slick than it had been in quite a few years. A textured, vinyl-sleeved, black wool jacket currently hid a deep red scarf that was normally done up like a tie. Pin-straight black pants had been present since they’d been invented practically, and the demon could say with no small uncertainty that they fit him. (A little _distractingly_ well, sometimes.) 

“I… I worry, Jahaziel.” Finally pulling himself from his little admiration session, he spoke again. He wanted to tell him how much he worried that eventually he’d be asked to do something entirely reprehensible, and the angel wouldn’t forgive him for it. “I think we should go back. Perhaps there is something we can do a little closer to… to the origin point.” (That had been a worry too, but not the worst one.)

The angel looked over at him, finding many handsome features highlighted by the dim lights outside the car. He never got tired of that rather cute swallowtail suit cut he always wore. Reminded him of Aziraphale’s dove form, which Jahaziel hadn’t seen since Edo Japan. The angel wondered now if he’d ever see it again. He’d wanted to possibly go somewhere tropical together sometime and explore somewhere in the way only they and no humans could, just be free in such a primal way. Slither about a jungle floor, discovering the finest details of creation that it had to offer. Fly over cliffsides and skim the surf far below. He still wanted that and so many other things for the two of them to do together. With hopeful a raise of his brow, he asked quietly, “You want to?” 

Aziraphale nodded. “I’d at least like to make sure… I’ve done the right thing.” The words seemed so disingenuous and empty. But just _leaving_ things as they were felt equally as wrong.

Jahaziel studied him for a moment longer, eventually nodding himself. He loosed their hands to turn the car around, and headed back towards the hospital.

They shared a far more comfortable silence on the way back this time, Aziraphale trying to think of anything they could possibly do short of taking the infant _back_ and deciding what to do with him in a more controlled environment. About to express this idea to the angel, he instead look up as they approached - and swore loudly. Jahaziel’s eyes followed, and he cursed as well.

The car left running, the two leapt out of it and ran towards the hospital. Fire rescue was on the scene and already extinguishing the flames, EMTs were removing casualties and survivors alike. It was a carefully controlled chaos; the worst of the damage already done. In a panic, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, freezing everyone in place.

“What are you doing?” Jahaziel demanded, confused. “Surely the baby is gone, there’s no way he wasn’t brought out first. Let’s just cut our losses. Go back to yours and work out another plan.” 

“Sister Mary,” Aziraphale replied, hurrying from stretcher to stretcher, trying to find her. “She’s the only one that might know what happened. And she knows where the Antichrist went.” Or rather, she should. Stars above, he hoped she would.

After searching a number of stretchers, and peeking remorsefully under white sheets, he did not find her. As a matter of fact, there seemed to be quite a few missing persons from the scene. And, most notably, perhaps, the car that had been in the parking lot when he’d gotten here earlier was gone as well. He snapped his fingers again, veiling the pair of them in the process as well as unfreezing the service workers while he headed back towards the angel.

“Any luck?” said angel asked, sidestepping a collision with a stretcher being rushed away. “Do we have anything?”

“Not as such, no. However.” Aziraphale turned, watching an EMT climb into the driver’s seat of one of the ambulances. And as he looked back at Jahaziel again, he smiled. “How do you feel about a little car chase?” Surely, all the nuns would be taken to the same hospital. If they didn’t find Sister Mary, they may at least find the new mother.

Back in the car, Jahaziel navigated behind the ambulance, keeping an eye on it as it drove through the night. They discussed what their plan was once they got there, Aziraphale suggesting different things for different outcomes. His hopes were that they would find Sister Mary and be able to figure out if the surrogate for the Antichrist was in the same hospital, and they could check up with her. Deciding between the two of them it might be smart to have a talk with her to fill her in on what the coming years might be like, their conversation turned to points to bring up.

“I don’t quite think we should tell her she’s raising the Antichrist,” Aziraphale leveled, shaking his head. “A bit heavy. She might not accept the child. Or worse, she’ll think we’re loony and refuse to listen to us at all.” 

Jahaziel agreed. “Right. Perhaps informing her the child is being watched? Monitored. Fear monger a bit. What is it that humans are so afraid of these days? Wire-tapping and the like.” 

“Oh, that might work.” But Aziraphale frowned. “...Mm, I do worry about the child being sheltered then. Wouldn’t that be worse in the long run?”

“Sheltered children do tend to lash out and misbehave. Could be an early tipping point.” Jahaziel hummed flatly in thought. “New mothering trends? Humans love trends.”

Their polite squabble carried on like this, accompanying them to the parking lot of the next hospital. It seemed a little uncouth, even camouflaged, to follow the stretcher straight away - they hung back a bit, doing the footwork the old-fashioned way.

“Hello,” Aziraphale greeted, a shade under cheerful, smiling at a harried-looking woman behind a receptionist’s counter, “We are here on behalf of the - ah…” 

“A hospital near Tadfield caught fire this evening,” Jahaziel interjected, stepping up beside him, “we’re close friends with one of the nuns brought in. We brought her things for her stay.” One subtle glance to Aziraphale later, and he was handed an overnight bag the demon brought out of nowhere. Holding it up for the receptionist to see, she gave a non-committal _humph_ and nodded. 

“Wing B6.” The two looked around clueless for a moment before the woman sighed. “To your left.”

They parted with their thanks.

“Tired or incompetent?” Aziraphale asked quietly as they headed towards the mentioned wing. 

“Both, possibly. Or, who knows. Maybe we just look the type to hang around with satanic nuns.”

The demon chuckled at that, waving his hand slightly. The bag disappeared from Jahaziel’s grasp, and the two of them navigated their way through the corridors of the hospital.

Not taking more than a few minutes, they located Sister Mary’s room after a bit of trial and error. Slipping in unseen, they approached her bedside.

“Sister Mary?” Aziraphale attempted quietly, reaching to touch her shoulder. As if the contact were smelling salts, she jolted awake with a sharp breath.

“Ohhh, Master Azrikam,” she cooed dreamily, eyes settling on him. “Twice in as many days. How lucky for me.” Her spacey smile faded just a bit. “...How many days _has_ it been?”

“It’s... still the same evening.” A worried look was given to Jahaziel, who stood opposite from the demon at her other side. “Tell me - what do you remember of… Of the… Ah. The switch?”

“The little sweetiekins… He had the cutest feetie-weeties…” She sighed, closing her eyes again.

“Yes. Quite. Feetie-weeties.” Aziraphale huffed quietly, recalling all sorts of comments about virtues and how patience was one of them. “Do you know where the mother is? Can you tell me?” 

“Haven’t the faintest.” Sister Mary shifted, seemingly ready to fall asleep again. “They left rather quickly once the fire started.”

Another look between the two supernaturals. _’They?’_ Jahaziel mouthed. Aziraphale shrugged animatedly in reply. 

“Right. Yes. You get some rest now, Sister Mary.” The demon tucked her in, jerking his head a bit towards a table in the corner, heaped with clothes and other belongings.

Poking around through the contents, the pair found two manilla folders tucked between the nun’s habit, smallclothes, and other personal effects. Two manilla folders. For two different mothers.

“Ah.” Jahaziel cleared his throat softly, his tone just above a whisper as to not wake the nun again. _”They.”_

Aziraphale did not let his small frustrations show. He took both the folders from the angel, patting the top of them. “Well. It looks like we have some research to do.”

Both decided this research could be completed at Jahaziel’s flat, and they headed back to the beetle. Much like their initial drive to Tadfield, they were back in Greenwich in less than an hour.

****

“And there’s _no_ distinguishing characteristics?” Aziraphale pressed quietly, looking up from the documents the two were currently poring over. They’d gotten comfortable at the flat and were seated on the couch. “Nothing at all you can ascertain?”

Jahaziel shook his head, swallowing a bite of the strawberry crumb bar he’d finally been able to enjoy. “Nothing. Even when I looked at him in that basket… He seemed _normal._ Not a shred of good nor evil. No terrifying aura. Nothing that jumped out and said—” A little hissy falsetto voice accentuated his example. “‘Hey! Look at me! I’m the Antichrist, here to tear out your eyes and eat your ears, isn’t that lovely?’” 

The demon pondered that, staring at Jahaziel for a moment longer before looking down again. “You know… That might end up working in our favor.” 

Adam and Warlock. The names given to the two baby boys that had left the Tadfield hospital that very evening. Undoubtedly Sister Mary had these folders to try and flub something for their favor, but ending up with them both was more luck than either of them could have accounted for. It wasn’t perfect. In fact, it was mostly an annoyance. But the idea forming itself in Aziraphale’s head was something that was just asinine enough to work.

“Eh? How do you figure?”

“Alright. Well.” Aziraphale took a breath, folding his hands together and leaning back slightly, staring at the ceiling with bare eyes. “We are entirely certain that the Antichrist was delivered to the hospital and given to one of these mothers. We are also certain that the Antichrist was perfectly normal. No auras or hooves and the like. Babies are - babies are truly considered to be neutral, correct? They are unable to distinguish right from wrong, good from evil. If I’m remembering correctly, they are even exempt from… the sin of the father, or something like that.” Needless to say, the demon wasn’t intimately familiar with Bible verses. Not any longer. They weren’t exactly pertinent. "The sins of the father in question being... _particularly_ outstanding... We should have noticed if something was off with him." 

Jahaziel’s gaze was intense, and he nodded once. “Go on.” 

The demon took another breath, suddenly nervous for some reason under the pressure. “I… I propose that we continue this. I believe that we have the ability to keep them - both children - on the straight and narrow. We both think so incredibly similarly on the ordeals of Heaven and Hell. The best course of action would be to impart this upon the boys themselves. Directly.” 

The angel watched him as he spoke, taking another bite of his treat. It was rather tasty, he would admit, despite not particularly enjoying the practice of eating. But anything Aziraphale gave him he would at least try. He’d promised him as such quite a few years ago. The taste was not enough to distract him from the situation at hand, however, and he chewed fully, swallowing it with a swig of bourbon. “You want to… influence them directly. To continue being neutral. From our shared experiences.” Aziraphale nodded, confirming his interpretation. “How do you propose we do that? Lurking around children has hardly ever gone well for anyone.”

Aziraphale hadn’t quite gotten that far in thought yet, mind turning itself over to try and think of something. He thought of the nuns looking after children. He thought of daycare centers. Teachers. Caretakers. He zoned back in again, smiling over at Jahaziel brightly. “Every busy parent likes a nanny.”


	15. Chapter 15

Aziraphale and Jahaziel largely spent the next eleven years apart from each other. They easily blended themselves into the Young’s and Dowling’s lives, raising the boys with an in-sync and objective outlook of the world. Both children took a strong liking to their respective nannies - which both of the celestials changed their appearances for. They created somewhat _matronly_ images that couldn’t be recognized by anyone on either of their sides. Jahaziel wasn’t bothered by Uriel during this entire process once. It made him somewhat wary, but he also hadn’t been giving their goons much reason to track him down. Oddly enough, their act of defiance seemed to be just blasé enough to limbo under the radar with room to spare.

Now the year was finally 2019, the day of both boys’ births and the day the angel and demon would finally find out which of them was the real Antichrist. The two were understandably apprehensive, discussing the final details as casually as they were able to over the phone. 

“When is it supposed to show up again?” questioned Nanny Hazel, her phone in the crook of her neck. Her voice held the same Scottish lilt it did since the day she’d been hired by the Youngs as she’d grown very fond of the accent over the years. Possibly the only downside of her choice in appearance was an older, very nosy man with a dachshund from the village. He tended to hit on her _every single damn morning_ when he walked said dog. She’d never bothered learning either of their names, which did nothing to cut back on the flirting whatsoever. He’d thankfully laid off recently though; she’d cut her hair in a very masculine style last week. Wanted to at least try something different if the world was indeed going to end in seven days time. 

Currently, she was repotting Mrs. Young’s root-bound begonias, mainly for something to do. She’d already dressed Adam’s elaborate vanilla frosted chocolate cake. She wouldn’t have bothered making something special if Aziraphale hadn’t gotten her _so hooked_ on the Great British Bake-Off recently. She’d even decorated it with gold sprayed chocolate molds. It was more for herself and Mrs. Young though, not really Adam. She’d noticed, over the years, that birthday parties were more for the adults than the children the older they got. Quite alright with her - Mrs. Young and herself often had the nicest chats over drinks and whatever was left of the cake when the children were done with it. The boy himself was in Hogback Wood with his little gang the “Them,” as per usual. Nanny Hazel, or “Haha” as Adam had been calling her for six years, would happen to go fetch him sooner than usual. She just couldn’t remember exactly _when_. It was 2:44 pm right now, according to her steel belt watch.

On the other line, ‘Nanny Zira’ was currently carrying out the fifty kilo cake for Warlock into the yard. “I told you yesterday morning. It’s going to be 3pm sharp,” she said, her voice a rounded, Bristol country accent. “Wait, were you not listening to me?” She grabbed the house phone from the crook of her shoulder and shifted the ridiculous tower of pastry to one hand like it was a simple, couple kilo round cake. Even the security guards offered to help her as she passed them, all three of them looking alarmed. She smirked at them, politely insisting that she had it. Anyone that dealt with her on the daily had nothing but respect and a little fear for Zira. They often described her as ‘a little creepy’, but she had been more than capable of keeping track of Warlock over the years. She had a top bun of thick white curls at the moment, wearing brown kitten heels, a taupe corduroy pencil skirt and matching overcoat. And, of course, her flip-down sunglasses. Prescription, she had said, ‘for sensitive eyes’. She honestly couldn’t wait to stop wearing this dreadful outfit. Eleven years was too long. She hated feeling breezes where they shouldn’t belong so often.

“ _Ock,_ no I was! I was distracted! Your boy isn’t a morning person - mine is!” Hazel pulled the rest of the begonias out just a shade roughly in her minor annoyance at being called out. Falsely, at that. Nothing major broke though. “He practically tore up the breakfast table trying to catch a spider!” Plant was settled in its new pot and covered in dirt, Hazel huffing quietly. Plants were definitely more Zira’s thing, but as she had learned, the internet could teach her _anything._

“Least yours cares about them. Warlock wouldn’t react to a spider if it bit his hand in front of him.” Warlock had gotten exceptionally broody as of late, especially since he learned that his father would be absent at yet another one of his birthday parties. The ambassador’s wife tried to compensate by making the events stupidly elaborate, but it didn’t distract the boy for long. She and Zira were quite convinced he may have very real depression. However, today being what it was and all, Zira naturally wondered if there was more to that sadness than just the human variety. Not that depression was a sign of _evil_ , and she could reason he certainly had things to be depressed about. It just… Given the circumstance. Seemed a little telling.

“Hm. Probably a good sign,” Hazel said, echoing Zira’s thoughts exactly. “Er, well not good. But. You know what I mean.” As far as which boy was who, both of them did think the real Antichrist was Warlock. Made the most sense after all these years. He was supposed to be with that family anyway. Adam was simply too happy-go-lucky and normal. He was still somewhat wild, but it was about par for his age. 

“Right.” Zira finally made it to the party tent, sliding the cake onto the table while avoiding the masses of ten to twelve year olds running everywhere. The table creaked under the huge white dessert, and she didn’t catch the incredulous look or head shake from one of the older body guards. She gave the tent a once over, seeing everything was in place now. She was just thankful Mrs. Dowling had hired a party coordinator this year. Warlock’s ninth birthday’s Harry Houdini rendition had gone over very poorly. Granted that was Zira’s fault. She couldn’t help it; she loved old fashioned magic acts! Though she was convinced that if she’d done it herself and didn’t let some two-bit charlatan do it, things would have gone better. 

Hazel finished potting the plant, flicking her gloved hands twice. The dirt miraculously fell off and she stood, brushing off her knees. “Well at any rate, thank Someone that this is our last day.”

“Indeed,” sighed Zira, leaning up against the table behind her, tucking away an errant curl. How did Jahaziel _deal_ with long hair for as long as he did? She’d perhaps never know. Looked far better on him anyway. “We’ve done all we can to make them impartial.” Two kids brushed by her, smelling intensely of grass and trailing it everywhere in the tent. Eyes half lidding, she tilted her head back to stare at the top of the tent. How on earth had they gotten into the damn lawn clippings? And _why?_ She groaned quietly, pinching her brow. “I’m not cut out for this.”

Hazel chuckled on the other line. “What, henning children?”

“No, being a _woman_. I don’t know how you shift back and forth so easily. If I have to wear another skirt or pair of hose again, even three hundred years from now, it will be _too soon._ ”

The angel laughed heartily. “You _chose_ to wear those things as part of your get up, Azzy. And if I recall, being nannies was your idea anyway.” Mrs. Young looked up from the kitchen table as Hazel came inside and making a gesture to the phone, silently asking who she was talking to. Hazel mouthed “husband,” pointing at the receiver, secretly delighting in the admittance far more than she ought to. 

Mrs. Young smiled toothily. “You’ll find Adam for tea and his cake right?” she whispered. “Invite his friends too if you can.”

Hazel nodded with a small smile as she stashed the completely clean garden gloves and tools back under the sink. Zira was still complaining about missing short hair, shoes without heels, and even simple _hairy legs_ , for Someone’s sake. Hazel looked at her watch. 2:53. She strode out of the house, casting her awareness out for prying eyes. Her walk took her off the property and around a tall hedge where she quickly vanished in a cloud of fast fading, red sparkling smoke. 

On the edges of Hogback Wood, Jahaziel appeared again as himself, dressed in what he’d essentially been wearing since the early 2000s. He gave a sigh, breathing out the old accent and switching to normal for the first time in eleven years. He’d even kept it while reporting to Heaven a couple times, which skeeved out Gabriel more than planned. Another unexpected delight - Jahaziel so enjoyed making him subtly uncomfortable. He put his phone on speaker as he started walking. “Bet first thing you’re going to do is visit your old barber, eh?” he said, smiling.

“Oh _yes_ of cou....Wait. Did you switch back? Right this second? After all I’ve just gotten over with saying?”

Jahaziel blinked, trying not to smile. “Eh. N-no.”

There was a pause over the line. “ _Hazi._ ”

He couldn’t conceal the smile, and he was certain the demon could tell. “What.”

“You may be clever, but you’re not the liar among us. Plus I can _hear_ it!”

“All right all right, caught me,” grimaced the angel as he walked into the woods, following the well trodden path the kids used. “Sorry, love. I had a bad feeling the daschund chap was going to come around again. Nosey bastard.”

A small breath of a laugh was heard over the line. “Ahh. You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d figure he was some sort of Upstairs hire. Though he doesn’t quite seem to have the grace or purpose. Just an obnoxious human.” She chuckled this time. “Best of luck with that, my dear.” Something crashed on Zira’s end and the demon groaned aloud. “Oh! Oh dear, oh _please_ children! We do not use that as a-- Jahaziel, I’ll call you back. Don’t forget, 3pm!” Then the line went quiet.

Jahaziel pocketed his phone, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops. He didn’t really go for countryside life, but it had still been interesting to live out this relatively short time here. He’d left his resignation in his little unlocked cottage right next to the Young’s, which they’d find in due time. Something about saying good-bye was too hard and that she and her “husband” were retiring to Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands. He’d also hidden a small fortune under the floor for the Youngs so they wouldn’t want for anything in the last days of the world. Or perhaps beyond if everything went according to plan.

He hadn’t gone more than half a mile before he began hearing children’s voices, smile coming to his face. Perhaps one of the things he’d enjoyed most these past eleven years was watching Adam and his friends get on so well. They’d all met only just a few years prior, and had become thick as thieves before long; sharing birthdays and sleepovers and adventures he heard all about during the evenings when he tucked Adam in. They kept each other in check, getting into no more trouble than children their age should - and Jahaziel couldn’t have approved of his friends more.

Stopping short of where he knew the Them often gathered, he checked his watch. Three on the nose. Senses were pushed out once again and he braced himself, waiting for the inevitable. He wasn’t sure what to expect, exactly. Thunder, maybe. An earthquake. Something big and _evil_ -feeling that would turn the world on its end. 

Five minutes passed, and none of that happened. Unwilling to be _impatient_ about the end of the world, he crouched low to the ground, assuming his snake form to get a closer look at just what was happening without the risk of being spotted. Skin gave way to sleek scales, senses growing more acute as he moved silently across the wooded ground towards the children. Their voices grew louder - and he heard excitement in them.

Curious, his path took him around the back of the large throne the children had built, head peeking around and between some crooked slats of wood under the seat. He heard no growling, no terrified screams. Nothing even close to what could be considered mayhem. Just what the _not_ Hell was going on? He moved slightly again, attempting to get a better look. He saw Pepper waving a stick around. (Unsurprising.) Wensleydale was standing with his hands on his hips, talking to Brian. Adam - he couldn’t see Adam. He hadn’t the faintest where the birthday boy could be until he heard a creak from the wood above his head. And assumed then that he was sitting down. Alright, that was all of them. But what was the excitement about? Not that children didn’t get _excited_ over every little thing. But it _was_ the right day for. Well. Something “exciting” to happen.

Jahaziel then heard a frantic little _tak-tak-tak_ -ing across the wooden boards, and four small, furry legs darted past his view. In his sudden shock, he sat up straight - forgetting for a moment that he was a snake, and hitting his head on the underside of the throne. Shaking stars from his eyes with a disgruntled hiss, he darted from his position to get a better look.

What he saw was… rather underwhelming, all things considered. A small dog, some kind of terrier, perhaps, was running around between the children. Had his face the ability, it would have scrunched in confusion. Was this… the Hellhound? The fabled Hellhound, sent by the Underworld itself, to signal the coming of the end of times? It seemed so perfectly _normal._ Playful, excited. Wagging the whole of its rear end as Pepper shook the stick at it. 

“Did you ask for a dog?” she questioned, looking over at Adam, tossing the stick a few yards away. The dog dashed after it as if it were born for this sort of thing, triumphantly bringing it back. “It is your birthday. Maybe he’s a present.” 

“I’ve always wanted one. Mr. Tyler has his dog. Mum said I wasn’t responsible enough. I guess she changed her mind. And you’ll be good, won’t you, Dog?”

To Jahaziel’s surprise, the dog (Dog?) ran in a circle around him, then sat at his feet, tail still wagging. Like a completely normal, not-Hellish hound. Just to be sure, the angel pushed his senses out further. Nothing noteworthy. Apart from a rather stiff and sudden breeze, he sensed nothing out of the ordinary. (He wasn’t entirely sure if he’d be able to sense much, anyway. If this was Hell’s work, he assumed they’d try to cover their tracks a little better. Also evident in how neither him nor Aziraphale had sensed anything from the Antichrist to begin with.) 

The angel remembered himself after the inspection of the ‘beast’, and cleared his throat; throwing his voice just a bit to back where he’d changed. “Adam,” he called in the Scottish accent, “bring your friends, it’s time for tea and cake, dear!”

Confused and even more on edge than he had been before, he slunk away, fading back into himself some unseen yards away and going over what he’d witnessed. There was a dog, yes. But it was a pathetic, small thing, probably a stray. The children weren’t afraid of it, and it was behaving as any dog would. Pulling his phone from his pocket again, he headed out of the woods, ringing up Zira again.

By _some miracle_ the intended recipient of the call answered, sounding out of breath. “Jahaziel? What’s happened? Has the Hellhound…?” 

“No. No Hellhound here.” A sputtering was heard on the other end.

“You’re _sure?”_ Zira’s tone turned a little frantic. “Nothing here, either… Nothing out of the ordinary happened on your end? At all?”

“He did get a dog. But it’s… It’s normal, Azzy. It’s sort of disappointing really, even by dog standards.” He heard it barking playfully behind him, and he turned around again, watching it dart in and out of his line of vision excitedly. “It’s _playing.”_

Zira, on the other end, was cleaning up paper plates and utensils the children had left scattered around the tent. They were focused now on some exotic animals Mrs. Dowling had someone bring in to keep the children entertained after the cake. Distracting enough to allow the demon time to clean up and take the phonecall. “It’s. It’s _playing?”_ The notion was absurd. “Not malicious at all?”

“Doesn’t seem to have an evil bone in its body. Couldn’t sense anything, either.” 

Zira didn’t know whether to be confused or relieved. She was a healthy mix of both, but wasn’t quite sure which was winning out in this instance. More frustrating than that, she didn’t know what to _do._ “Well. Meet up tomorrow?” Eleven years was nothing in terms of time spent apart. But missing Jahaziel was something she’d done every day since they’d decided to pull this stunt of theirs. And if things were still on track, whether they’d noticed it or not, there wouldn’t be much time for a reunion. “We can look over things again. See what we might have missed. At yours…?”

“It’s a date.” Eagerness replaced the unease Jahaziel felt quite readily. He did so miss his demon. ”I’ll see you soon.”

\----

The hours following Warlock’s birthday were spent cleaning up the birthday mess and ended with some sad goodbyes; Nanny Zira wishing all the best for Mrs. Dowling and her son. And the husband, who was of course not present for them. Her own story included something similar about retirement with a handsome gentleman she’d met on a trip into town who had offered her the world, and Mrs. Dowling had all but insisted the two of them sit to discuss her very sudden and quite rash departure over a glass of expensive wine. Not one to turn down a chance to talk at length about Jahaziel with someone that could pass no fair judgement, she had taken her (now former) boss up on the offer before heading out.

Finally, as Aziraphale, he was able to relax in the comfort of his church. Once again no dust had touched the shelves or pews, smelling of pleasant spices and incense that he’d lit not too long ago. But he felt… antsy. Not knowing which boy was the Antichrist was gnawing at him - enough to where he could barely think of the date he had coming with Jahaziel tomorrow. The feeling was so oppressive he wondered idly if his own church had something to do with it, so he stepped out back to get some fresh air.

“Nice night,” growled a voice next to him. Aziraphale bristled, only jumping the slightest bit and keeping his features neutral despite the _aroma_ their ilk tended to exude. At least the odors Hastur and Ligur did. How Aziraphale himself managed to not smell _repugnant_ was a small miracle he would never question. (Or maybe he did, and Jahaziel just didn’t mention it. Equally as likely, he may have just gotten used to it.)

“...Quite. Would be more unpleasant with a little rain, don’t you think?” he asked boredly, re-adjusting himself to the proper tonalities of talking with formal demons. 

Hastur grumbled something of a confused affirmative, sizing him up. “Would be even _more_ unpleasant if things were going according to plan.” His ugly teeth glinted in the moonlight. _”Don’t you think?”_

Aziraphale’s posture tightened a bit, hands clasping in front of himself. Choosing to ignore Hastur for a moment, he enjoyed the feeling of being back in this more comfortable form. No pencil skirts. No heels. Truly a blissful experience. He took in a leisurely breath of evening air, letting it out slowly. “Armageddon is on the horizon, Hastur. You must be patient. After all, Rome wasn’t built in a day. ...You were there. You would know.”

“Building takes time. Devastation is fast. That’s what we’re here for.” His voice grew in irritation, making Aziraphale shrink back just slightly. “You need to get things moving. I don’t know what it is you think you’re doing up here, Azrikam. But we have a schedule. If you want to keep your position among the _natives_ while you still can, you would do _very_ well to make haste on it.”

“Right.” Aziraphale swallowed uncomfortably. “Yes. Quite.” Very briefly, he considered inviting Hastur inside to treat him to an impromptu sermon, but he knew the act would be in vain. The duke was far too proud of himself and his position to be swayed even by his strongest of arguments. And even if successful, it would only serve to keep the demon off his back until the end of it all. Would have been more worthwhile had he considered it a few centuries ago, to be sure. Hindsight being 20/20 and all. (Or would it be 40/40…? No, he was quite sure it would still be 20/20. Perhaps 20/20/20/20 - oh, it wasn’t important.)

But now, the most he could do was help Jahaziel figure out which of the children was the true Antichrist and go from there. He had no other options but to progress things in their efforts to stop them. With no parting words, he headed back inside - just in time to hear a knock on the front doors of the church. He hurried through the building and opened the door to see a tall man climbing into a delivery van. Aziraphale looked down at his feet to see a large cardboard box that had been dropped off for him. When had he ordered something? And why was it being delivered at such an hour?

It took a bit, but he eventually was able to finesse the heavy box into the church and to the side of his desk, forgetting entirely that he had a dolly specifically for the purpose of lugging around heavy boxes like this until he’d dragged it the forty feet already. “Oh, for--” Out of breath, he kicked the box, cursing it, for being heavy; the dolly, for not simply manifesting at his side when he needed it; and himself, for forgetting not only that the dolly existed but what (and where) this box had come from. And he’d kick himself later, still, for forgetting he could simply make it appear there with no more than a thought and a snap.

He carefully tore the tape off, ripping some of the shipping label that proclaimed a delivery for “Rev. A.Z. Fell” as he did so. Flaps were pulled back, and the contents were revealed - a large number of books, which accounted for the weight, and a few pieces of paper in clear plastic folders claiming the authenticity of said books. Bits and pieces of the memory filtered back to him, and he clicked his tongue with an ‘ahh’ of recognition.

Some years ago, at the behest of a certain angel, Aziraphale had looked into online auctions to help him find the books he sought. More specifically Agnes’ original tome. Jahaziel explained the ease of such things to him, and the setup seemed almost luxuriously, sinfully lazy - it appealed to the demon on a baser level, and he’d begun the search using one of Warlock’s old computers. It hadn’t taken him much time at all to find a lot that promised what he was looking for, and with a simple gesture, he’d all but _rigged_ the thing in his favor - though it was only now he was getting the promised goods. A letter enclosed with the authenticity documents claimed it was in part due to the documents themselves taking so long to procure, but a little tingle at the base of his skull told him the delay wasn’t entirely human error.

He could spend quite a long time agonizing over that particular interference, but for now it was of no consequence. He had a _very_ good feeling about this box. Excitedly, though carefully, he pulled the books out one by one - white cotton gloves covering his hands and preventing any form of _ick_ , otherworldly or otherwise, from marring the covers or pages. Truth be told, the other volumes weren’t exactly the highlight of the lot he’d won. But now that he was looking over them, he was somewhat impressed. Gently pleased. The first editions would find a welcome home on his shelves here. There were even a few Jahaziel might have had an interest in - and he put those off to the side, alongside the scrolls and tomes he’d rescued from Alexandria. Jahaziel had handed them over sometime in the last few decades, Aziraphale finally seeing fit to house them. How surprised the angel would be to get them back and learn what he’d actually kept safe for him all these years. Now seemed as good a time as any to gift them to him and get the reaction the demon had been holding out for for so long. 

“Right at the end of the world,” he sighed wistfully. “Perfect timing.” 

Evening hours ticked by, Aziraphale going through and carefully shelving the books he wanted to keep. Fitting that the last book of the box would be the one he was _actually_ looking for. He pulled it out, inspecting it. _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch_ had a satisfying weight to it, and it smelled like properly aged paper and binding as well. But then again - most of the reproductions did. Blood on the binding - very good sign. He drew in an excited breath, doing his best not to hold it. Metaphorically. Or actually. Could still be a reproduction. Authenticity slip or no.

But as he opened the book and found some curly scrawling on the last page, all four of his eyes practically lit up. There in front of him, plain as day, was the hex Agnes Nutter was rumored to have written in the book mere hours before her execution. _This was the real deal._

“Oh my word.” Excited, unimaginably so, the rest of his worries slipped away to almost nothing as he turned carefully to the first page, smiling broadly as he made his way through the book itself. Prophecies and anecdotes, truths and predictions filled his vision and mind as he read them, completely hooked on every word. Nice and accurate indeed - there were things mentioned in the book that he and Jahaziel had witnessed first-hand, and it amazed him to no end just how _personal_ some of the sections were. Why had he never _seen_ these in the other copies he’d read?!

His attention was steadfast, more enraptured by the book than anyone else that had read it in history. Michael hadn’t accounted for one very important thing in their encounter with Agnes. Without realizing it, Aziraphale had been taken in by said hex the moment his finger brushed the blood stain. The spell was only possible, however, because of the fact that the curse stuck to all the copies, not the _”firste tome.”_

The demon had forgotten about his woes nearly entirely until he’d come to one of the last sections of the book, finding a smile as he read a prophecy detailing an angel nurturing a demon. 

“The engel with hær of fyr will take under his wing a being of Hell, and with intentions unbesmiten shall cast his heort over him until the ende of days.”

After reading it aloud, he paused. Read it again. For a few moments he had been consumed by a feeling of love, figuring it had been about Jahaziel and himself. But the prophecy itself was near the end of the book. Surely, were it about them, it would have been more in the beginning…?

And then it dawned on him.


	16. Chapter 16

Just as the sun touched the horizon again, Adam insisted he spend a little more time with Dog outside, though he fully intended to sneak the intelligent terrier into his room. Somehow, he knew Dog was fully capable of it. He’d find a way to climb the vines on the house if he needed to.

Dog trounced around the garden, trying to catch a cricket in the grass while his master followed. The boy looked out at the quiet road by his home, expecting to see no one at this time of the evening. But he saw two figures walking towards his house, one man with dark glasses, white hair, and light colors. The other was in black and red that looked very much like his suddenly absent caretaker.

Adam started walking toward the gate. “Nanny Haha?” he questioned cautiously as they got within talking distance. Dog trailed after him, abandoning the bugs for the moment at the sense of his boy’s sudden distress.

Jahaziel winced, rethinking that he should have redonned his disguise for the child’s sake. But he trudged on and opened the front fence gate. This was going to be difficult in every sense if Aziraphale’s prophecy was correct. Just to make the transition slightly easier for the boy, Jahaziel readopted his old Scot accent. “Ah, yes. Right. Hadn’t exactly expected to come back here.”

The angel expected him to ask a few different things, but what came out was the most important one to the boy. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?” Adam said, sounding hurt and frustrated, forehead bunched up slightly.

Jahaziel knew that look. His eyes shut for a moment and sat on his haunches in front of the boy the way he’d done for years when talking to Adam, getting on his level as to not have to talk down to him. “Ehm. Well. I didn’t--I mean I wasn’t trying to--” He couldn’t find the words without having to explain everything first. “I _should_ have said goodbye better than I did.”

The boy’s expression softened slightly, but he still looked upset. “It was me, wasn’t it? The spider from breakfast? Is that why you left?”

Jahaziel’s eyes widened behind his glasses. He shook his head and rested his hands on Adam’s shoulders. He forgot how children could prioritize even the most simple of things. “ _No!_ No, none of it is your fault, dear!” He really didn’t know what to say, now that they were actually here. He started to speak several times, but nothing quite made it out. The child could be a ticking time bomb if they did this incorrectly. But on top of all that, Jahaziel couldn’t help that he’d grown very fond of Adam. It was too easy for him to fall into, every single time, but it was made a might worse that this probably was the real Antichrist. (Fancy that, him being the only angel in existence that could love demons and their spawn.) He physically couldn’t see hurting the boy anymore. So he had to be as careful about this as possible.

Aziraphale’s hand found the back of the angel’s head in support. Jahaziel paused.

No. _They_ had to be as careful about this as possible. At least he wasn’t alone.

“Adam. Listen. You deserve to know the truth now. There’s a lot you aren’t aware of. Things I’ve not told you about yourself or me. But.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulders gently. “You’re going to have to promise you’ll listen first. Then you can ask as many questions as you want or need to. Deal?”

Hurt fading into curiosity, Adam looked straight into Jahaziel’s eyes behind his tinted glasses, and he nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

Jahaziel smiled. “Good lad.” He glanced at Aziraphale briefly. “Right. Well.” He’d only really done this willfully in front of his demon, but Jahaziel took off his glasses, revealing his eyes to the boy for the first time. “First thing’s first,” he dropped his accent into his normal one. “My name isn’t Hazel. It’s Jahaziel. I’m an angel of,” he looked up at the sky for a second, “well, originally God. But I’d like to consider myself an angel of earth now.”

Jahaziel expected surprise, but once more, Adam frowned and only seemed to look _into_ him with a perception he hadn’t possessed this morning. He didn’t even seem skeptical. Jahaziel’s heart sank. He was almost convinced the prophecy was correct now. True to his word, Adam didn’t ask any questions yet.

Helping him along, Aziraphale finally stepped forward, removing his glasses hesitantly as well. With a soft hum, he introduced himself in turn. “And I am a demon of earth as well, I suppose. I’m Aziraphale. You won’t remember it, but I’m the one that brought you to the hospital the day you were born, Adam.”

Adam looked up, his eyes not even widening at Aziraphale’s extra set. He frowned again, eyes searching the space in front of him. “No. I don’t remember. But.” He looked back to both of them. “You are both telling the truth. You aren’t human. I know you aren’t.” His eyes finally grew wider. “Nanny, I feel like I shouldn’t know all this. I should… be more surprised.”

Jahaziel knew first hand how confident the boy was, and seeing fear there - a fear that didn’t belong - made his heart ache. “It’s all right. You’re going to be fine.” That was it. No more left to doubt. It was true then. Adam was the son of Satan. He didn’t _want_ him to be. For all the destruction the boy’s existence was supposed to herald, it just didn’t fit. Adam was sweet. A kind and gentle soul. A child truly befitting of a long _human_ life. Jahaziel had been banking on it being Warlock for years. But here he was, right under the angel’s nose this whole time. “It makes sense that you do,” he supplied. “Because what you don’t know about yourself is that you’re like us, Adam. In fact, you’re more powerful than both of us put together. Than any number of angels _or_ demons.”

“I don’t know if you’re familiar with any religious lore, Adam,” started Aziraphale. “But you were put on this earth for one reason by your father in Hell.” He sighed, his eyes closed. Jahaziel’s wariness was beginning to rub off on him. “To destroy it. To bring about the end of this planet and all we know of it.”

The boy stared at Aziraphale then looked back to his old nanny, eyes beginning to glass over. He clearly didn’t want to believe it either.

Without further ado, both of them took turns explaining just who his real father was, the swap at the hospital, and what the circumstances of Armageddon would be. Aziraphale specifically was sure to be very concise about impossible beings that only existed in mythology suddenly coming to life, uncontrollable nuclear war, famine, and pollution at the behest of the Horsemen, and then the final battle between Heaven and Hell once all the humans suffered “for their sins” and died at Death’s hand.

“But Adam. Adam, look at me, dear,” said Jahaziel.

The white’s of the boy’s eyes had gone red, welling with unshed tears. “Nanny, no. That can’t be me. I don’t want to do all that. I don’t want to hurt anybody!”

“I know. _Listen to me_ , okay? It doesn’t have to be you, Adam!” His voice was gentle and encouraging. “That’s why we’re telling you this.”

Adam looked more fully at the angel, searching the serpentine eyes before him for answers he didn’t know he needed until three minutes ago.

Jahaziel took out his vest’s pocket square, flicking the folds out then dabbing at the corners of the child’s eyes. Adam didn’t even protest as he normally would, which spoke to just how disturbed he was. Jahaziel felt so damned _awful_. He glanced at Aziraphale again, almost glaring.

Aziraphale didn’t miss the meaning behind it. Jahaziel wished they didn’t need to go through this at all, even though it had to be done. This special brand of compassion was one of the angel’s biggest weaknesses and greatest strengths. He loved the unlovable, the undeserving, and the unknown, even at the cost of himself and his holiness. The demon was certain his status in Heaven hung by a shadow of a thread now. If any of them found out Up There that he nurtured the Antichrist, the demon didn’t know any other way they _could_ react. Perhaps they may see it in a sense that it was foolish hope on Jahaziel’s part, to change the inevitable, but it almost seemed like wishful thinking at this point. Jahaziel wasn’t exactly in their good graces anyway, considering Uriel’s long fixation.

“Jahazi--er, your nanny is right, Adam.” Aziraphale knelt down too at his angel’s side. “We both believe that the end of the world does not have to take place at all. We’ve told you all this so you know that these things are exactly what cannot happen. If they don’t, then the world will continue to go on as it always has. You’ll be able to stay here, play with your friends and your,” Aziraphale eyed the tiny hellhound leaning against Adam’s leg, “dog, and stay with your family. Forever.”

Adam’s jaw tightened in the dimming light of evening, and he looked between the two of them.

Jahaziel’s expression softened. “You can ask questions now, dear,” he said softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Adam said without hesitation. His voice cracked pitifully, and it caused the angel’s eyes to water now. “Why did you wait until a week before the end of the world? Why did you _lie_ to me so long about who you are? About who _I_ am?”

The angel’s heart plummeted into his stomach. This was taking a turn for the worse. “Adam, I have people I must hide from. People that… want to hurt me.” He couldn’t frame the possibility of falling as being the worst possible outcome. Not with Aziraphale here. It wouldn’t help the situation to paint him as any kind of enemy when he needed, more than anything, the two of them to operate as a unit on the same page. On the same side. ”I couldn’t have helped you otherwise. We wanted to do all this so you would grow up the right way, not under some parents who don’t care and would lead you down the path Hell wanted.”

“You--” Adam’s eyes went wide with realization. “You’re _lying!_ Nanny, why are you still lying to me?!”

Aziraphale looked at Jahaziel then. What? What in the blue blazes of the Almighty was he lying about?

“You didn’t want to take care of me. You wanted to _kill me!_ ”

Out of instinct, at the boy’s raised voice, Jahaziel hushed him quietly. But it was incredibly unnerving to have his very mind read in front of him like psychics claimed they could do. On the spot, his argument was… very weak. “That’s--that’s not true, Adam.”

“It was!” Adam took a small step away. “ _It was!_ ”

“It isn’t anymore!” Jahaziel’s own voice raised hypocritically, and he grabbed Adam’s upper arms firmly. Dog stood suddenly at alert with the unmistakable red eyes of Hell, growling, wiry hair bristling. “I haven’t thought that since the day I first took care of you!” His grip loosened, and he let go, resting his now fidgeting hands on his thighs. He looked down at the cobbled path he’d snapped into existence for Mr. Young’s thirty-fifth birthday. The begonias he’d just repotted that morning. The swingset that he’d commanded to construct itself for Adam on Boxing Day years ago. He suddenly felt so tired from it all. “I care too much about you, Adam. I helped raise you. I got to know you. I grew to love you. That is _not_ the answer anymore.”

Aziraphale hadn’t known that Jahaziel had held onto that avenue of thought. It almost didn’t seem like one he’d hold onto, considering his paternal soft spot. However, he supposed the evil the boy represented grated against Jahaziel’s nature as it usually did at first. But he placed a hand on the angel’s back, looking at Adam. “No. It isn’t. It never was to begin with. Because you’re the only one that can stop all this, young man.”

Adam still looked ready to bolt, and his tears fell freely now. Dog at least sat again, no longer threatened. “But--but you said it was inevitable,” said the boy, voice wobbling. “Supposed to happen no matter what. Part of the ‘Great Plan’.”

Jahaziel shook his head derisively. “Oh boll--er, to blazes with the ‘Great Plan’, Adam. I’ve been guiding humans since the first days on earth. I still believe after all this time that our choices shape the Plan, if She even has one.”

Aziraphale pointedly did not look at the boy, suddenly terrified Adam might divine one specific, long hidden truth from the demon’s eyes in that instant. 

Quiet for a long while, Adam shuffled his weight, picking at his nails. “What am I supposed to do then?”

Jahaziel did his best to give a reassuring smile. “That’s the beautiful thing of it. Nothing. You don’t have to do anything at all. You know what’s right by now. I’ve taught you that your whole life. As long as we can all make it through the next seven days without anything happening, everything will be fine.”

The little Antichrist looked between the two of them, seeming smaller than he had before. “I’m scared, Nanny.”

Jahaziel held up his arms, not forcing the boy into the hug that he gratefully fell into. He hugged the boy as he always had, through excitement and tears, steadfast and reassuring. “It’s okay to be scared, little one.”

“M’not little anymore,” he protested, jaw digging into Jahaziel’s shoulder as he hugged tighter.

Jahaziel smiled, letting Adam step away when he needed to. He grabbed the end of the boy’s nose playfully for a moment like he used to do before Adam turned five. The Antichrist swiped the hand away, sniffling. “I’m very old,” said the angel. “You’ll always be little to me.”

“Adam!” called Mrs. Young from the front door some distance away. It was too dark to see them now from the house, thankfully. Aziraphale made sure of that. “Time for bed, Adam!”

Looking back at his mother, Adam started to walk backward, away from the two supernatural beings. He still looked pathetically lost.

“You can do this, Adam,” promised Jahaziel, getting to his feet. 

“We believe in you,” added Aziraphale, smiling at him.

And with that, the Antichrist disappeared into the cottage.

The angel and demon walked back down the lane to where Jahaziel had parked the beetle. Got inside, and sat. They didn’t say anything for a long time, the small down passing them as they drove.

As usual, Aziraphale was the first to break the silence. “You did the right thing, Ha--”

“Don’t.” Jahaziel’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “I hurt him.”

“It _had_ to be done.” 

“Did it?” He looked at the demon, the car seeing fit to drive itself for the moment. “I shattered his entire world, Aziraphale. I can’t think of anything crueler than that.”

“ _We_ did. Not just you. My love, there was no other way it could have happened,” he asserted gently, remaining calm for both their sakes. “And I’m sorry, but the world is more important than the feelings of one young boy. We’ve done everything right. I’m certain of it.” He wasn’t. He actually had quite a bad feeling, especially since the boy had looked so frightened when they parted. But he had to try making his dearest feel better.

Jahaziel was, in fact, right that they shouldn’t have spoken to the boy at all. Had they not interfered, Armageddon would be put off forever without much further ado. Adam would have had an eventful, fun week where he could change their ice cream parlor into one that actually served 31 flavors, conduct the Them’s pretend witchhunt with actual, fun magic tricks, and fix the noisy muffler on his dad’s car because such things shouldn’t break.

But that night Adam went to sleep terrified of himself, the forces of Heaven and Hell he never realized existed, and also all the bad, fantastic things his nanny and his husband said would happen. Whispers in the darkness came into his resting mind, manifesting every manner of oddities and nightmares into reality all over the planet.


	17. Chapter 17

The very next day was proof enough that what they’d done was absolutely the wrong thing. Aziraphale had seen, on a television in the pastry shop when he picked up crepes, startlingly _convincing_ footage someone had gotten of a very real cyclops. Jahaziel heard a radio reporter saying something about what the younger crowd of humans were calling ‘the friendly Mothman’ as he made the drive to the church. Neither one had heard the report of an actual dragon being found in a large forest in Japan yet.

The angel almost always enjoyed driving his car, no matter the circumstance. Even when they’d taken the Antichrist to the hospital, he’d just been happy he could help Aziraphale out. But now for the second time in as many days, he was just plain upset. Trees and buildings and people passed by in his peripherals like a grey, uninteresting blur. He wanted to savor it, but he couldn’t. He needed to confer with Aziraphale again over all this. It was, in part, to express just how much he’d wished they hadn’t said anything to Adam at all. True, it was time for him to stop being a nanny. Even ignoring Armageddon, he couldn’t have looked after him forever. There was just too much he wanted to do and see, time he wanted to spend with Aziraphale. He was upset that time was in jeopardy - even moreso than it had been just a day before. Too many things were backfiring and spiraling out of control, and he just needed to vent. It wouldn’t help anyone but himself to do so. But Aziraphale always had ideas for this, right? Perhaps there was still something that could be done.

Aziraphale, sensing Jahaziel would be over after seeing the odd events, had two glasses of scotch waiting when the angel came through the doors. Jahaziel made his way back to the desk, helping himself to one of the glasses and drinking nearly half of it in one go. “We need to talk.”

The demon fixed him with his gaze, holding his own glass and nodding. The atmosphere in the church had him on edge, and he absolutely hated feeling uncomfortable around Jahaziel. It wasn’t his fault. Everything was just so much _right now._ It felt as if they hadn’t had a quiet moment to themselves in decades. He sighed. “Yes. We do.” With a wiggle of his fingers an old radio sat on the corner of his desk turned on.

“--and reports of UFOs in the United States have been circulating at a higher volume than normal, sources say. While extraterrestrial contact has not been established as of yet, the--”

Jahaziel manually turned off the radio, sighing and staring into his glass. “We shouldn’t have said anything. I know it now. You know it. This could all have been avoided. Adam would have been fine. Things… Things would have been _fine._ ” His voice shook gently with his final word. Surely, this was still going along with the Plan. There was no way God would… She had to have… There was just so much at stake. This couldn’t be the end of it all, could it? “Adam could have grown up carefree. Happy. And we wouldn’t have aliens and cyclopes and-”

“Mothmen.” Aziraphale shook his head at the thought, sighing quietly. But he looked at the angel again, thinning his mouth. “Would you rather he have been visited by Gabriel? Michael?” He stepped closer. “Hastur or Ligur? Beelzebub themself?” A quiet huff, and he took off his glasses, folding them and placing them on the desk. “All our hard work. The past eleven years. Someone else surely would have found and come to him if nothing happened this week, will him to forget everything we told him. Would have told him to be evil. _End the world._ The moment a force greater than us visited him, nothing we have said or done would have ever mattered.” He shook his head, letting out a breath. “Not to mention, they’d all _know_ \- they’d talk to him, name us both, and we’d get into serious trouble I’m not sure either of us would be able to get out of.” Eyes were on the angel again, hard and serious. “We did the right thing.”

“Why are you so set on this?” Jahaziel’s voice was rising, just a little bit. “Why are you following along with this? We could have just - we should have _left_. Run off to be ourselves somewhere else.” He looked around the church, at all the books Aziraphale had accrued over the centuries. The niche he’d built for himself. Certainly, they could start something similar somewhere else. “We’d be deserters for a little while, then forgotten about. We’ve never mattered nearly as much as our _chaperones_ would have us think.” He spat the word bitterly. “We could do it now, even. We can go off together, Aziraphale. God’s Plan--”

“God’s Plan?” Aziraphale interrupted, tone a little more harsh than he intended.

“Yes,” Jahaziel replied in earnest, “I truly believe--”

And Aziraphale interrupted again, tone fading from harsh to just barely mocking. Almost cruel. “You ‘truly believe’, Jahaziel? Really? In your heart?” Eyes narrowed in judgement, stepping in and imposing himself on the angel. “You truly believe, in your heart, that She wanted everyone to die in the Flood? In Egypt?” He saw Jahaziel shrink back, but he did not relent. “Sodom and Gomorrah, She wanted everyone to die, be struck by righteous flames, turned to salt, all as part of Her Plan?” He paused, briefly, but Jahaziel did not interject. “Falls right in line then, hm? Destroy all of humanity just to make a point that even _you_ don’t understand.”

“She must have a reason!” Jahaziel finally exploded, throwing his free hand into the air, slamming his glass down. “It must be for something! Everything happens for a reason, Aziraphale. People die. Humans die. Angels fall. _You_ fell, for Heaven’s sake. _And I still don’t know why._ ” All the grief and anger that had been felt at this notion, for six thousand years, bubbled up in a sudden rush, like a bottle of soda pop set down too harshly. “Why. Why did you fall, Aziraphale. You were far too good for Heaven, yes. They never deserved you, yes.” He was hurting, every fear and concern crashing together in a cacophony that was so poorly timed he could find no strength to hold it back anymore. “But why did you fall when it wasn’t your fault?” His tone lowered, and his voice shook. “Why did you fall when it was me?” 

When Aziraphale didn’t reply, Jahaziel noticed the look in his eyes that told him he was _keeping_ something from the angel that was maybe in his best interest not to know. But at this point, what was there left to keep from him? There wasn't any time left for secrets. It… It made Jahaziel furious. In an uncharacteristic detonation of emotion, he grabbed Aziraphale’s shoulders and shook him once, eyes wet. “Tell me!” 

“I took the blame!” Aziraphale’s shout set off the flurry of a thousand birds’ wings rushing to evacuate the church belltower. The sound filled the air around and within the building, and then an eerie silence settled in. He stared deeply into the angel’s eyes, sorrow filled in each one of his own, all weeping silently. Jahaziel just stood there, frozen, holding him still. Aziraphale hadn’t wanted him to find out this way. He had never wanted Jahaziel to find out _at all._ He knew that was an incredibly unrealistic expectation - his angel would have to find out sooner or later. Maybe, perhaps, he only wished it hadn’t been in a fit of explosive desperation, wondering why the world had to end when they had just begun to figure things out for themselves. “I took the blame for you. I said it was me. I couldn’t… I couldn’t see that happen to you.” Not then. “I asked _why,_ Jahaziel. Just as I told you.” 

Jahaziel’s stare persisted, body still frozen. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think.

The demon continued. “You knew so many things. Perhaps too many. You could _change_ things as an angel, Jahaziel. You had and _still_ have a beautiful voice filled with beautiful ideas, and I wanted those to be heard. Acted upon. Falling would have condemned you to an existence of silence.” Very tenderly, he shrugged Jahaziel’s hands off his arms, moving to hold his face as gently as he could. “You’re not delicate, my love. Far from it. But you would have resigned yourself. You would have given up.” All these years later, Aziraphale figured the angel’s fall was something near on the horizon. But back then? It would have destroyed Jahaziel far more than it had Aziraphale. “You have done so much good that no other angel would have even dreamed of. Earth - _humans_ need you. And no matter the Plan, no matter what’s in store. We did the right thing. I still think we can.”

Jahaziel’s hands came to hold around the demon’s, turning his face into one of them as more of his tears fell when he closed his eyes. In those moments, the angel’s world crumbled around him. He couldn’t handle this. With everything going on, this was just - this was one truth too many. “I love you, Aziraphale. More than the stars in the sky.” He opened his eyes again, studying the demon’s features, almost looking defeated. “But I… I need to do something. Alright?” He kissed the palm against his cheek before pulling the hands away. Something felt on the verge of falling apart in him, but he couldn’t deal with it at the moment. So he held it in and kept it close. Now wasn’t the time. “Please - just let me think. Take a look in your book again. We’ll… we’ll figure it out.” 

Aziraphale understood. He did not care for the finality of the statement, feeling again like he’d just told Jahaziel he’d fallen for the first time. But he trusted him, and he smiled as bravely as he could. He knew it fell short, but it was all he had. “We always do.”

Without a further word, the angel left the church, snapping his car door open and heading to the observatory before he broke down. He drove to his work building, not his flat, and pored over old paper star charts to try avoiding it all. He should have been thinking of something to help prevent Armageddon. He wished he had the ability to reverse time instead of just stop it. Prevent himself and Aziraphale from going to Adam. Prevent himself from hearing Aziraphale say he’d _taken the Fall_ for him. He could have gone until the end of the world not knowing. Just six more days, and it wouldn’t have mattered.

Jahaziel hadn’t had much reason to dwell on very awful things for very long over his life. Wars came and went like tides to people that lived longer than 6,000 years. Little truly bothered them long term. For him, it was always acts of God that got under his skin. The very thing he always should have supported shook his faith every time.

To hear Aziraphale’s Fall was practically his entire fault - that Jahaziel _should_ have become a demon right from the start? So many things started to make sense. Why he’d always felt he had a contrary opinion. Why almost everything in Heaven felt so _wrong_ all the time. It was _he_ that belonged Down There, not Aziraphale.

Jahaziel had convinced himself for so long that telling the humans to follow their intuition and common sense, especially with the apple, made the most sense for the Plan. It was the only thing he could see that really moved anything to the next step. God had to have put him on that wall in the garden for this very reason. Clever quip or no, it’s where She knew he belonged. Or so he figured. It’s what he’d always believed.

As he leaned heavily over the mess of unrolled papers, he realized that he’d always known taking the apple was wrong. He’d known it was direct rebellion. Even _worse_ to tempt God’s newest creations to take it. He knew it was rebellion to talk to Aziraphale after he’d become a demon, too. To save that family from being incinerated. Everything he’d known was contrary to his God-given orders. And there were always consequences to going against the will of his vengeful deity.

His guilt fully slapped him in the face, and all he could do was think about Aziraphale. The angel’s face contorted and eyes burned. “Oh you _idiot_ ,” he hissed to the papers. “You sssselfless, ssstupid idiot!” His voice broke as his volume rose. That one kind act of Aziraphale’s had ruined his life for eternity. And it was all Jahaziel’s fault.

Something hot and volatile lashed about in his chest that he’d never felt before as he stood, pacing. Not even at Sodom and Gomorrah when that girl had been murdered. He was no simpleton. This was hate. _Real hate._ He hated God for letting this all happen. He hated his fellow angels for never questioning how cruel they were being to humans. More than anything though, he hated how blind he’d allowed himself to become. Even as a demon, Aziraphale was still so blatantly _good._ Compassionate, caring, thoughtful, _loving_. Of course he didn’t belong Down There. Jahaziel should have _seen_.

The angel crumpled to his knees next to the wall, unable to stop utterly frustrated tears and cries from escaping the shaking hand over his mouth. The hatred in his chest reached a boiling point, and with a ragged yell, he hit the wall with the side of his fist. The entire room shook as his fist broke through drywall, wood, and wiring, sending a cascade of debris over himself and the floor. 

After a minute of just letting tears hit the old dirty carpet, Jahaziel looked at the hole in the wall, pulling his hand out with a wince. He was bloodied and scuffed up badly. Splinters had laced into his skin, some so deep he could feel them in the tendons. Far less than he deserved, he thought miserably. He sat there for a long while, expecting someone from elsewhere in the observatory to come in, but no one ever did. Lights flickered above him from the damaged wiring, dust from an old ceiling fan sprinkling onto and around him. He’d lost control, not unlike when he’d struck the earth after the cities of sin burned. Even then, he hadn’t felt so much blind hatred. Even then, he still held faith in his heart. His hand seeped dark stains onto his slacks as his eyes shut, pulling off his glasses and rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes. He was sure Aziraphale probably felt his distress from all the way across London. For once, the angel didn’t want to see him. This was something he had to go through for himself.

Sniffling, he healed his hand of cuts and splinters and leaned up against an undamaged section of wall. “Are you happy now?” he said brokenly into the dead silence. He looked up at the ceiling, holding both arms out. “This part of your Great Plan too, God?”

Still not talking, as usual.

He sneered. “Right. Enough of this.” This was helping no one, least of all himself or Aziraphale. His gaze dropped to the table with all his papers, head resting back on the wall. Was his influencing humans with the stars some kind of sin as well then? Weren’t supposed to know such things, right? Weren’t supposed to think or act or feel anything outside of their perfect little garden.

Then something occurred to him. As angry as he was, logic trickled back in. _Why_ would Aziraphale be allowed to take the fall? Surely, God would have seen his heart. She was omniscient, omnipresent - all those all-powerful monikers. Supposedly, at least. Everyone just sort of… assumed.

_So if he was the guilty one, it was simply not possible then that Aziraphale could take the fall for him._

Something wasn’t adding up now that he was able to think more clearly. And the more he thought about it, the more he actually wanted to see the footnotes for this. He flicked a combination of gestures into the air to pull his celestial tablet into existence, switch immediately flipped back into research mode. After a few runes and some complicated finger dancing, he was accessing Heaven’s archives. He didn’t have much clearance, but he had just enough to do some digging. Quite a bit of scrolling through the Fallen files later and he found Aziraphale’s, which was one of the very last to be recorded. He sat up more fully, bringing the tablet closer to his face to read the fine print.

“Principality Aziraphale was found guilty of First Degree Doubt by the jury of Archangels. As predicted, he fell on the Seventh Day of Earth’s existence due to proximity to Angel Jahaziel.”

Jahaziel’s eyes widened, staring at the last sentence with his heart pounding in his ears. A choice curse started forming behind his lips. ‘As predicted.’ _As predicted._ It was no accident. 

Aziraphale had been meant to fall. It was pure happenstance Jahaziel’s actions had been the catalyst. But... perhaps it was _not_ happenstance at all that he himself had been involved.

He searched further for leads and tie-ins, following an intricate web of circumstance. Feeble threads linking one theory to another that only strengthened as he delved deeper presented themselves. A couple times he thought he was reaching, but one suspicion led to the next far too coincidentally. The angel found himself in some very old records - some so old he struggled with himself trying to recall exactly how to translate some very ancient Aramaic and Latin into modern English. A notebook was grabbed from a counter in the room as he continued, going through and translating roughly as he went along, paying less attention to what the words were translating to and more just getting them translated while he rode this wave of optimistic motivation as long as he was able.

Jahaziel wasn’t entirely sure what he was still looking for at this point. Somewhere in the back of his mind, part of him may have been convinced this was just a time-wasting distraction. He was already researching Armageddon, that couldn’t be avoided. But any time spent not consumed with the miserable happenings of the world around him would be filled with things he and Aziraphale could be doing otherwise, so he condemned himself to this mild torture rather than allow himself any shred of hope that things might go differently. It was certainly better than thinking either of them could escape this fate. Especially considering Aziraphale had all but refused the idea of _eloping_ , which had left enough of a sore spot that it really didn’t need revisiting.

More digging in ‘shared’ files that were far less heavenly led him to some other interesting discoveries. One search had led to another, and _that_ had led him to his computer - researching names and their meanings. Perhaps it was no accident either that Aziraphale had been given the name Azrikam as a demon.

“People with this name,” he muttered to himself out loud as he read, “have a deep inner desire to inspire others to a higher cause, and to share their own strongly held views on spiritual matters. Meanings of this name include…” Eyes traveled as his mouse wheel scrolled. “Help. Revenging.” Alright. Well. That was a little on the nose. Then again, Hell seemed pretty well-adjusted to poking fun at and twisting the metaphorical arm of Heaven. Even more curious now, he looked up his own name. “Jahaziel… Jahaziel…” He glanced up from the computer screen a few moments later, then back down; eyes narrowing at the words in front of him. “Son of a bitch.”

“God sees or reveals,” came Uriel’s flat tone from the doorway, and Jahaziel’s gaze was on them in an instant. “That’s what it says, isn’t it?”

Jahaziel turned back to his computer, to his notes, holding up a finger. He did not need Uriel’s shit right now. “I’m not finished.” His voice was cold. “You can wait.” More surprising than anything that’d happened today, Uriel immediately stopped talking - and did, in fact, wait.

He made no haste in going over his notes, correlating them with what he was able to pull up on the tablet, reading the translations he had written down.

By the time he _was_ finished, he was certain he had a pretty clear picture of just what had happened, and what would happen. And it was rather… deeply unsettling. More than that even, it turned his stomach. He closed his eyes, feeling more tired than he ever had in his life. 

“He was meant to fall.” He knew Uriel was still there, listening. He didn’t even care at this point that he was essentially admitting to having _some form_ of camaraderie with a demon. “He was meant to fall so he could lead Heaven to victory in Armageddon.” He tossed his notebook at the table, scattering loose papers to the floor as he stared hard at the other angel in the room, who only looked enervated rather than pleased to finally be addressed. “Six _thousand_ years, and he’s still your pawn in all this. Six thousand years to bear witness to all Heaven’s cruelties in the name of righteousness. It wasn’t enough to cast him out, no. I was named to follow in his footsteps before he’d even take them. And bear the brunt of it.” He scowled at Uriel. “‘Jahaziel.’ ‘God sees or reveals.’ I bet you all think you’re so _fucking_ clever.” 

“And it only took you six thousand years to realize it.” Uriel dared to show the barest hint of a smile, lifting their hands to clap thrice. “Bravo, Jahaziel.”

He scowled again, unafraid to let his anger show. “Yes, yes. The last horse crossssses the finish line.” Standing, Jahaziel paced the room, willing his tablet away to think more clearly. 

“Tell me, Jahaziel. What conclusions have you reached, then?” Uriel’s hands folded patiently in front of themselves, watching Jahaziel with feigned curiosity.

The lights flickered above him again, and Jahaziel looked from them to the hole in the wall, pointing at it. “What did you do with them?” he asked quietly, seriously. “My team. Someone should have come when I did that.” Not that he was proud of it, but the reverberations through the building that he’d sent should have set _something_ off. Not to mention, the building was _old_ \- the wiring he’d damaged could have very easily caused any number of other electrical problems in other parts of the observatory.

Uriel looked more impatient than anything now, rolling their eyes. “All stricken with sudden wanderlust. They’re enjoying a day off, unharmed.”

“Mm.” Another thought occurred to him. “Aziraphale would have felt it.”

Uriel’s usually blank expression somehow still managed to look smug. “This is a private meeting, Jahaziel. We wouldn’t want to be interrupted, would we?”

So the building was veiled somehow, preventing any sort of otherworldly intervention in _or_ out. Apparently Aziraphale wasn’t the only one that knew how to effectively cloak, then. Uriel had been lurking since probably before he even got here. He did not like how the pieces were adding up any more than he did an hour ago, and he clenched his fist at his side. “No.” He replied curtly. “Of course not.”

“Again I ask.” Uriel’s tone was barely urgent, but the need was there. “What is it you’ve learned?”

“Why are you so insistent? Maybe I’ve learned nothing.” 

At that, the other angel produced their own tablet, drawing a few runes with their finger and reciting off all the articles Jahaziel had just been looking over himself. Their Aramaic was a lot more _accurate_ than his had been, though. “Right on schedule.”

His features fell slightly, and he swallowed. “Right. Schedule.”

Named to follow in ‘Azrikam’s’ footsteps, as an angel shadowing a demon. An angel that held beliefs incredibly similar to, if not identical to said demon. Which was a worse punishment? Falling for your beliefs? Or being made to suffer for centuries because of them, still forced to abide your maker? Neither one of them had come out ahead in this, and _still_ Heaven persisted to make their lives - well. Hell.

Jahaziel looked around the office. The desk overflowing with charts. The books he’d pulled out. The bookshelves jammed with textbooks and studies and observations. The room, the building, filled to the brim with everything he’d used to try and distract himself from the far less appealing truths he’d been uncovering his whole life. The truths he’d tried so hard to ignore.

But he couldn’t ignore them. Not anymore. 

_Right on schedule._

There was no use trying to avoid it, or Uriel, any longer.

“Aziraphale--” He looked at the other angel with tired eyes before picking up the notebook again, flipping through his scribblings. “Azrikam. He’ll lead the forces of Heaven to victory over Hell in Armageddon. I haven’t figured out how.” Jahaziel knew the demon would sooner do a backflip into a Niagara Falls’ worth of Holy water before doing _anything_ to help Heaven or Hell in their efforts to destroy Earth. “Or why.”

“You’re generally smart. Think about it.” Uriel stepped closer, and Jahaziel bristled, his posture stiffening. Their voice came from Jahaziel’s left in the room suddenly, and he turned abruptly to it. “Why in the _world_ would he do something like that?” The angel was a good ten paces closer, beginning to invade Jahaziel’s personal space. A questioning hum came from his right side, and when he turned towards it, Uriel was in his full field of vision, leaning unpleasantly close.

Jahaziel stepped away, hissing softly under his breath. But he did think about it - it just didn’t make sense. Aziraphale had always done the most he could to avoid following explicit instructions, even from the team he _played_ for. And he’d been cast from Heaven for finding more reason to condemn their actions rather than condone them. He held his beliefs, just as he’d always told Jahaziel to do, and he suffered the consequences.

The only thing he could possibly imagine making Aziraphale help Heaven, the only thing in any realm that could actively sway his opinion one way or the other, was…

“...Me?” 

For the first time, while Jahaziel’s world crumbled to dust around him, Uriel’s smile showed teeth. It was a wide, wicked thing, and if the red-headed angel weren’t so preoccupied with wondering if every instance of his life had inadvertently been a push in the _wrong_ direction, he would have been made very uncomfortable by it. Wracked with guilt and shame, he sunk into his chair again, the weight of more than just the world on his shoulders.

“Another point for you,” Uriel chimed, seeming to enjoy this just a bit too much. “You’re on a roll.”

Jahaziel shook his head, ignoring Uriel’s muted cheer to the best of his abilities. “I… I don’t get it. I would never tell him to help Heaven. And I don’t know anything about _Hell_ to have him…” He waved his hand in the air. “Lead _anyone_ anywhere. Let alone Aziraphale. How can it be me?” The demon would discorporate himself before he gave Heaven any sort of leverage to fight a war, let alone win one. The war that would all but evaporate the only place they had to exist together in some form of peace. “I’d rather burn than let that--” 

...Oh.

That was it, wasn’t it? His next words were mumbled into his fingertips, that same feeling of helplessness creeping up on him again. But through it, pensiveness won out. Putting all the pieces of this bleak puzzle together left him rather empty. He couldn’t even be mad anymore. His mumble was quiet. Reflective. “...And maybe I will.” 

The sound of papers unfurling hit his ears, and Jahaziel looked over to see Uriel holding out some sort of scroll, clearing their throat. “The Angel Jahaziel has been formally requested for summons to Heaven, effective immediately.”

Once again, Jahaziel scowled. “Oh, come on, you brought that with you. That’s not fair.” 

Uriel shrugged a shoulder in an almost cheeky way, a tight, sardonic smile presenting itself very briefly. Fitting they’d never been so expressive until actually _catching_ Jahaziel in some sort of act. They’d probably waited all of the past six thousand years for this very moment. “Time is short. We assumed you were intelligent enough to reach the foreseen conclusions. And we were correct. Perhaps the one time you’ve exceeded expectations.”

“Don’t believe I’ve done anything worse in my life.” He sounded sarcastic, but he felt that boiling in his guts again. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug grin off the angel’s face, but stooping to physical violence, as satisfying as it may have been, didn’t really suit him.

Uriel pursed their lips as they lowered the scroll a bit, noting the aggressive stance Jahaziel had taken. “Ooh, sure you want to go there? Might just _make matters worse for you_ with the High Council. Not like you really could, but.” They scrunched their nose in a mocking smile. “Best not add onto it.”

They were so clearly baiting him, and Jahaziel just couldn’t give them the satisfaction. “So uncharacteristically _considerate_ of you, Uriel,” Jahaziel bit out. He really wanted to make it worse. Just get what he now knew for certain was coming to him over with. And really, if now was the only opportunity he’d ever get to sass back Uriel, he’d take that inch and go a mile.

“Really shouldn’t be taking it so personal. It could have been any angel and demon that carried out this part of the Great Plan. You were just the unlucky two picked. It’s supposed to just be business.” Uriel shook their head slowly. “But having gotten to know you all these years… Seeing how much of a willful liar you naturally are...” A barely restrained laugh sounded deep in their throat. “You have… _no idea_ how long I’ve waited for this day. To finally see you get what’s been coming to you. All the lies you’ve told right to my face. To _all of us_ in Heaven.”

Jahaziel crossed his arms, fixing Uriel with an unimpressed, half-lidded stare. Well _that_ statement was one for the irony bin. “Really? Gloating? Come now, at least be _original._ ” He licked his dry lips, knowing his retort would indeed make it worse - but he just _had to._ “One thing’s certain though. Your entire department would give even Aziraphale’s superiors a run for their money, tormenting me like a vengeful shadow for millenia.”

Uriel tsked condescendingly. “Oh, Jahaziel.” They smiled again, raising their hand for a snap. “We’re just getting started.”


	18. Chapter 18

Coming to terms with Jahaziel’s departure took a little longer than Aziraphale anticipated, but he adjusted well and quick enough to clean up the scotch and glasses and clear a space on his desk to work. Look in his book again. Hmph. Easy enough for the angel to say. 

...No, no. He couldn’t be upset with him. Jahaziel had done nothing wrong. In fact, he acted a lot more tamely than Aziraphale would have expected him to. Solitude was the lightest punishment the angel could have given to him for what the demon had done to him, keeping that dark secret for so long. Aziraphale was only glad the distance was not permanent. Or, well. He hoped it wouldn’t be. With Armageddon on the horizon, he would have enjoyed at least one final moment of peace together before the end of it all. 

A rough shake of his head brought him out of that mindset. There was no time for that now. In spite of everything, he was still convinced there were things that could yet be done. The two of them may not have weathered worse, but like everything before this they would take it in stride. It’s just what they did.

With a sigh, he pulled out the prophecy book, opening it and poring over the text again. A ribbon bookmarked the page where he’d last found the relevant prophecy detailing Jahaziel’s care of the Antichrist, so he figured that as good as any a place to start. He had to wonder, as he flipped through pages and put meaning to the words, just what the supposed curse had been so intent on hiding. Jahaziel’s upbringing of the boy hardly seemed worth the trouble. What else was hiding between these pages? If there were two things Aziraphale was, it was persistent and endlessly patient. For the right things.

And it was what Jahaziel had asked of him. He couldn’t keep his mind from replaying what had just happened between the two of them. Admitting what he’d done. Admitting the lie he’d told Heaven, the lie he’d told Jahaziel. His relief at the reception was immeasurable, though something ugly still clawed at the back of his mind. He could understand why the angel had wanted some time to think about this for himself. Aziraphale just couldn’t ignore the feeling this was the last time he’d see him, and that bothered him more than anything else. But at the same time, it was just so _silly_ he had to shake his head again just to knock the notion out and focus.

He sifted through a few prophecies nearby the one about Jahaziel and the Antichrist. “Beware, a burned, dead ácwern shall inherit the striped realm of divided steorrs” seemed like a possible lead and was near the end of the book. He had to search his memory for the meaning of “ácwern,” remembering after a minute that it meant… some kind of rodent. He found his Old English dictionary near the back of his library just to get the most accurate translation. Yes indeed, it meant squirrel specifically. Oh. He recalled Jahaziel making fun of a recent, over-tanned world leader in America that had hair like squirrel roadkill. And steorrs. Stars. Striped stars. Yes! Stars and stripes. He rolled his eyes. That did make more sense. Other prophecies varied from warning against believing in the bitcoin to scolding the masses for fearing Y2K. Nothing useful any longer.

Aziraphale was starting to lose hope he’d find something in this massive book before the end of the world to help them. However, his eyes paused on a page near the end, hovering on a passage curiously.

“Not of irre, but of love, a fyr shall descend from the steorrs to meet his mate. As it hath been writ before us, Heaven’s gain heralds their betrothal in darkness.”

—

As the room shifted around them, Uriel’s mirth finally disappeared. They scowled as the light of Heaven’s transport system gripped them both, zapping them into the High Council main board room. It was a featureless spot on a high rise overlooking the rest of the holy realm where the other six of the remaining archangels--Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Jophiel, Zadkiel, and Camael--stood in a half circle before Jahaziel and Uriel. The latter joined their ranks at the left end of the angels.

Jahaziel felt very off balance, having teleported to standing from where he’d been sitting. He was suddenly so much more terrified than he expected to be, dwarfed by his peers a hundred times over in status alone. Next to God and Satan, these were some of the most powerful, oldest beings in the universe. They’d been at Her side since the Real Beginning. And they were all looking at him with the same unimpressed, unreadable stares. It finally seemed to settle into him that this was really it. He was in trouble. Trouble Aziraphale couldn’t sense, couldn’t help him get out of. He was more alone than he’d ever been, or ever would be.

But he refused to show any weakness, considering how they’d evidently been using him this entire time. He cleared his throat, hooking his thumbs into his jean pockets. “Hey guys,” he said as if casually passing them on the street, rocking back on his heels. “Staying busy prepping for Armageddon?”

On the far right, Camael rolled his eyes, irises catching neon red from the overhead light. “Uriel.” Jahaziel involuntarily tensed up at his impossibly deep voice. He’d always been intimidated by Camael, the angel that headed Strategy and War Affairs. He both suffered for and benefitted from looking far too much like his Horseman counterpart. Plus he was bloody enormous, at least a full foot taller than everyone else. The whole terrifying package. “Who is this little messenger angel? There’s no time for frivolity right now.”

Uriel’s smile was back in full form, though they were a bit more professional around their peers. “No frivolity, Camael, I promise you that. I’m about to make your job a whole lot easier.”

Gabriel thinned his lips, rubbing his hands together as he stepped forward slowly. “Jahaziel,” he drawled, attempting a stab at old camaraderie. “Ol’ Jay. _Zee-zee._ Been a while since you checked in properly. Think it was,” he sucked his teeth, “maybe fifty-seven years ago now?”

“Gabriel,” said Michael expectantly.

Urged to take a less familiar approach, Gabriel stepped back into place next to Michael and tilted his head down in deference after a look that might have made lesser beings think he was actually sorry for his transgression.

“Angel Jahaziel, you have been found guilty by this High Council of treachery by association with the demon known as Azrikam,” Michael said with no further pomp, immediately taking charge. “Negligence of your duties and assignments, the sin of Sloth, and general unfaithfulness to the Great Plan. The punishment for these crimes are as follows: stripping of rank, holy status, and access to Heaven and its power until the end of time itself. You will be Fallen and will report immediately and indefinitely to whatever circle of Despair suits you best.” They paused, as if enjoying this. “Do you have anything to say before your sentence is decided?”

“No need for him to speak. He knows,” informed Uriel before Jahaziel could respond. “He figured it all out, just like Jophiel predicted.”

Jophiel, a diminutive white eyed archangel, looked at Uriel then back to Jahaziel again. She looked down her nose at him and sighed, almost disappointed. Her voice sounded like two people talking, one voice feminine and the other slightly delayed and deeper. “Of course he did.”

The others on the council exchanged looks, almost as if caught with their robes down. Michael’s eyes widened, and Gabriel winced heavily, refusing to meet Jahaziel’s gaze.

It was Raphael that spoke up again first, turning some towards the other Archangels. “Are we certain the Plan will go forward as expected? Now that he is aware of what is to come, what is to keep him from attempting interference?”

Zadkiel, on his left, shook his head. “He has the will to do what he feels is right. However, I do not believe even he will attempt to stage a coup this late in the game.” His voice held an even tone, almost gentle in some ways despite the gravity of the situation. Quite befitting of the archangel of mercy, Jahaziel probably would have thought, had he any presence of mind to recall just exactly what all the official titles were for those present.

“Yeah,” Jahaziel dared, feeling a sudden swell of defiance, “maybe I have my own plans. To do what’s right. Maybe what’s right includes saying ‘bugger this’ to each and every one of you and doing my own thing.” He folded his arms petulantly, losing steam. “Your Plan has always sounded moronic anyway.”

“How could he?” Michael chimed condescendingly as if Jahaziel hadn’t even spoken, the only one among them brave enough to fix the angel with their gaze. “Almighty knows the desire he keeps to hold right and wrong tightly in each fist is nothing compared to his desire to see the very demon we need to gain our edge.” They grinned at him darkly. “Isn’t that right, Jahaziel?” Their voice was a patronizing coo, but Jahaziel couldn’t even manage a lie. They were right. The last of his defiance faded. ”The moment we release you you’re going to run _straight_ into his arms, just as you always have when things get rough. Seeing you in such a state will be the final nail in humanity’s coffin. But you’ll be _together._ ” They wrinkled their nose, attempting another smile. Though it fell short. “A bittersweet beginning to the end of the world.”

Gabriel, after looking between them all as they spoke, clearly saw his chance; hands held out as if to silence the crowd. “And hey, look at it this way.” The other Archangels quieted, all looking at him. “No more sneaking around, huh? No more wondering if Uriel is lurking creepily around every corner.” He glanced at the angel in question then, shrugging helplessly at the glare he got in response. “Let’s be honest. You _are_ a little creepy. But no one here’s on trial for that, huh?” Uriel only rolled their eyes. Gabriel’s attention, back on Jahaziel, brought the archangel to smile. “As I was saying. You get to be with that demon you’re so crazy about. Hooray!”

“We shall pass no judgment for your actions once you are out of our jurisdiction,” Jophiel promised, smiling at him sadly. “We are only full of remorse that we will lose one of our own.”

“Let’s not go too far,” Gabriel interjected, shaking his head and pulling a mildly disgusted face. “Yeah yeah, sad to lose another angel. You said the same thing to Aziraphale.” It was Gabriel’s turn to roll his eyes. ”Very convincing.”

Jophiel narrowed her eyes in his direction. “We mean everything we say.”

Gabriel fixed her with a sarcastic ‘I’ll bet’ sort of look before turning back to Jahaziel. “So you get to be with Azrikam. You’re going to live happily ever after for…” He turned to Raphael, hand out and wobbling a little. “Four days? Five? Somewhere in there.” Back to Jahaziel again, who was still only staring daggers at the whole council. “But you Fall, set him off. Heaven triumphs against Hell with the edge we gain.” He winced but it held no genuine feeling. “I do doubt you’ll last much longer after that. But you can take solace in the fact that you’ve actually helped the right side win despite not staying on it! Just how fate works, right? And hey - better than being cast out and alone.”

The only thing any of the others did was nod in agreement.

After hearing all they had to say, Jahaziel felt something cold and concrete settle in him. He hadn’t thought the High Council had humanity’s well-being strictly in mind, but he still wanted to believe there was a higher morality to everything they did. That there was something in the Plan he just couldn’t see the end of since it was above his ‘pay grade.’ That he could simply opt out and that would be the end of it.

There really was no higher calling. There was nothing. This always was just about trying to one up Hell, and they’d manipulate two unsuspecting peons for as many centuries as it took to justify a means to an end. Kill countless humans too, and for _what?_ If they didn’t care about them, what the hell was it all for then?! It was simply the _epitome_ of everything Jahaziel wanted no part of. He gave his frustrations and disappointment a voice, venom in his words. “Do you all realize that you’re actually the biggest lot of downright scum-sucking cowards I’ve ever seen?”

The archangels didn’t move, yet Jahaziel almost felt like he could have fallen over from all the invisibly erupting, holy fury. He stayed upright, feeling sweat beading on his forehead. But he fixed each of them with a wide eyed glare, gathering enough magic at the ready in his palms to teleport him home. He knew he wasn’t going to have a moment to spare. “All-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful. Yet you need to exploit two _nobodies_ just to get a job done? That you’ve been planning since time began? You know what that is?” He looked to each of them, facing down their glares like an oncoming train. “Pathetic, is what it is. And I’d rather be embraced by a side that plays fairly rather than one that would sooner damn two of their own than actually get their hands dirty.” He shook his head. “When the earth is scorched and barren beneath your feet I hope you can find some other species as willing to think as highly of you as you do of yourselves.” 

“Ouch,” Gabriel voiced flatly, hand fanning against his chest. “Been saving that one for a while, haven’t you?”

“Bold of you to assume Hell fights fair too,” Camael chuckled quietly. He glanced to his fellows. “No wonder this one belongs with them.”

Jahaziel let countless years of irritation show though on his scowl, just utterly _done_ with them and sick of their condescending voices. But _especially_ the one belonging to his own boss. “Oh _fuck_ you, Gabriel. May your sanctimonious bullshit protect you from whatever it is you’re so afraid of.” He readied his exit as he spoke.

_That_ seemed to get to him. A flicker of fury passed the lilac irises before they narrowed imperceptibly. “The only thing I’m afraid of, Jahaziel, is having to scour the stain you’ll leave on your way down.” A beat passed, and he turned to the other archangels incredulously. “Hello?! That was a _great_ cue!”

Jahaziel barely heard the frantic shuffling of robes and suits before he whisked himself out of Heaven, landing in his flat not a moment later.

A moment, truly, was really all he could allow himself. The second he was flat-footed on wooden floors he felt the wind get knocked out of his chest. He hadn’t been banished, no. But parting from Heaven on such terms with such convictions, he’d all but renounced his Faith himself. It left him a little dazed, being unaffiliated, but he didn’t have time to deal with the ramifications right now. He dashed around the flat, heading into his bedroom and scrambling to gather what little he could. What did he even need? Where was he going? Panic blasted through him, stronger by the second. Hot, frightened tears streaked down his cheeks as he realized wherever he was going, he was going alone. As badly as his body ached for Aziraphale, he knew that he couldn’t go to him. _Keep doing what you believe to be right._ As much as he loathed it with everything he had, what he believed - no, _knew_ to be right was making Armageddon as easy as he could on humanity. If that meant breaking his own heart, then so be it. If that meant spending his last moments in complete solitude, then so be that, too. It was the least he could do, the last shred of dignity he could hold onto after being Heaven’s little toy for so long.

He found himself staring at the framed star chart above his bed. Memory flashed back to that evening, stumbling the streets of Egypt practically arm in arm with Aziraphale. Always, in times of trouble, that night was clear as day in his mind as what truly set them on their path together. Nearly blinded by sorrow, he climbed to stand on the mattress, fist slamming against the glass in the frame. It showered him, cutting his hand, but he pulled the delicate paper and folded it small enough to tuck into his pocket with a dry sob. 

No sooner had the paper gone into his pocket did he hear a crack from somewhere near the front door, and he rushed out of the bedroom to see one of Uriel’s lackeys staring at him from across the room. It was Dolmiel again. No doubt sent to drag him back to Heaven for his sentence. Jahaziel darted to the painting on the wall, flinging it aside and hastily popping the safe. Dolmiel advanced. Nine steps, seven steps, five steps away. Unable to even cast a doleful final look around what his life’s work had culminated to, Jahaziel threw the lantern to the floor in the angel’s direction.

Having occupied the space for so long, residual holiness had time to saturate the room around him. As such, the instant the Hellfire exploded from the shattered lantern it engulfed the room as if it were soaked in petrol. The lackey jolted away from the fast gathering flames, but he had nowhere near enough urgency. He had no way of knowing in such a short instance this fire was one that wouldn’t just discorporate, but annihilate his existence. Jahaziel made a hasty exit, darting back into his bedroom, throwing a window open, and jumping out; fall cushioned by a brief appearance of deft, grey wings. The wretched shrieks of Dolmiel embedded themselves in his very soul as he was consumed by unrighteous flame.

Jahaziel ran. He knew it was useless to do so - he hadn’t prepared anything by means of a miracle to get himself away, and hadn’t given thought to where he would go anyway. Anywhere on earth he’d be a sitting duck. But he had to try. Had to just _think. Bloody think!_ If he was fast enough, maybe they wouldn’t catch him. He could even jump planets, though that would definitely wear him out. Hiding under Europa’s glaciers in the inky black seas might be a good place to start.

His thoughts went back to the smeared galaxy on the star chart in his pocket. He looked up as he ran, searching the sky for that one speck in the darkness.

The angel’s screams behind him just didn’t _stop._ They only got worse, like someone being tortured, slowly seared apart atom by atom in the most painful way. Dolmiel still sounded like he was not ten feet behind Jahaziel, and it made his skin crawl. The pure agony was supernatural, a kind never before heard on earth, and no human would hear it unless they were particularly sensitive to such things. And particularly sensitive ears far above instantly went on high alert.

The once holy angel shuddered as he focused practically half his power at the faint twinkle of light above him, and with a bright, staticky flash of red and gold, he was gone.


	19. Chapter 19

It started off with a feeling. Like a CRT television being on somewhere in a room, but with the volume off. Just a _sensation_ that Aziraphale had that gave him pause, bringing him to look up from the book. It went away after a while though, and he hesitantly went back to his research.

Thirty minutes later, it was very quick to snowball from there, and before long, the sound of some unnatural, petrifying caterwaul had him standing so fast the chair he sat on clattered to the floor beneath him. It wasn’t just any wailing. Someone that wasn’t accustomed to the screams of the damned wouldn’t have noticed the supernatural difference - this was celestial. Close to home as it was, literally and figuratively, it had him tearing out of the church and into the street, looking in the direction of Jahaziel’s flat.

Stricken, he whisked himself away to it with a snap of his fingers, and the sight that greeted him caused a reaction so visceral it nearly made him vomit in horror on the spot. In an instant, he was pitched back to Alexandria, watching the great library be reduced to ashes as he stood by helplessly; the pain as intense as if it had happened only yesterday. Flames carried by wind from the flat had ignited the observatory as well. His vision flickered, and the smooth dome of the observatory shifted from that to the roof of the library, consumed by flame. He blinked with a panicked cry, and it reverted to what it was, but not before he stumbled back in shock. What made matters worse, rather than thinking rationally about anything that might have happened here he was sent into a fit of vivid, uncontrollable imagery as tears streaked his face, all four eyes an inconsolable stream. 

He couldn’t feel Jahaziel’s presence. He was simply _not there._ A thousand possibilities flashed through his mind like a grotesque flip-book at impossibly high speeds. Uriel could have gotten to him. He could have been cornered by Hastur or Ligur. Any other number of agents from Heaven or Hell could have figured him out, fed up with the laughingstock he was making of both sides with his careful lies and pretty stories. He realized then that Jahaziel really had made more enemies than friends all this time on earth - he could probably number them all on one hand with fingers to spare.

“Jahaziel!” Despite the supernatural volume of his shout, humans continued to mill about him in their own sort of panic at the burning buildings; narrowly but very pointedly avoiding running into him, as if compelled to simply avoid the spot he was standing in. This didn’t involve them; it didn’t need to. Without thinking, he ran into the building, ignoring the stench and cloying sense of hatred that he immediately identified as Hellfire billowing around him as freely as the overbearing smoke. This only served to speed up his imagination, already pulling double time to fill him with a nauseating panic. “Where _are you_ \- I can’t… Oh.” He lost his composure for a brief moment, a weak sob catching his words as he turned in helpless circles. “I can’t feel you anymore…”

It was so very disturbingly, wretchedly, unforgivingly _lonely_.

He was beside himself as he stood there for a few moments longer, giving into the despair of the situation and just simply weeping. What very well may have been his raison d'être could just as likely be in Hell right now as he could be… not of existence any longer. It seemed pointless to move, to do anything else. Armageddon could happen. It would all be the same without Jahaziel to cling to in those final moments.

As much as he wanted to, as easy as it would have been, he gave into everything but anger. It would do no good to be furious. After a couple good solid minutes of agony that left him bereft of any tears left to shed, rationality returned to his weary body. That scream could have been - well, not _anyone._ But he had to believe, as per the prophecy, that it at least _wasn’t_ Jahaziel. It couldn’t be, and it hadn’t quite felt like him either. There was still _hope._ It was all he had, all that kept from him crumpling on the spot again to be trodden or crushed under falling debris. 

“Not - not of irre, but of love, a fyr shall descend from the steorrs to meet his mate.” All sound seemed to vanish around him, dreamlike as he spoke to himself the prophecy like a mantra, walking through the building and taking inventory of the damage. He was at least reasonably certain… nothing could save it. Hellfire was Hellfire, after all. Hopeless, damning. All-consuming. It would not harm him, not in any way that mattered. Truthfully, it broke his heart enough just to see the place in this state, let alone consider the fact his, for all intents and purposes, _soulmate_ just may have perished within these walls as well. Everything Jahaziel had ever lived for, save walking his own path of righteousness, was vanishing around him. If they did manage to save the earth… what would he have to come back to? “As it hath… As it hath been writ before us, Heaven’s gain heralds their betrothal in darkness.”

Aziraphale reached the next exit of the building, waving a hand lamely to clear the flaming debris from his way and open the door so he could step outside. His footsteps were slow, as if time itself were acclimating to the speed with which his thoughts were racing. Jahaziel was still alive. He simply had to be. The demon would accept no other fate. He couldn’t. There was too much that depended on them. And selfish as it was, he’d stave off Armageddon for as long as he had to if it meant he could see him again.

With all he knew, there was only one place left to look now.

\---

Jahaziel landed on the south pole of some planet in the Whirlpool Galaxy near Ursa Major. He stumbled to his hands and knees, panting from how much energy it took out of him to jump 23 million light years. Winter night and freezing temps surrounded him, but the sky was lit up with purple, blue, and green aurora. A thin layer of snow covered deep blue crystal ice under him that extended in every direction around him for thousands of miles. Curiously, the chilled atmosphere (or lack thereof, he really couldn’t tell) gently hummed like a fan. Jahaziel looked up to see three moons, the middle and largest somehow the source of the noise.

He got weakly to his feet, not daring to use another miracle and give off his position. He hadn’t known where he would land, but he wished he could have ended up somewhere further north. Planets and where they were placed in the universe hadn’t been his department, and he’d gotten a kick out of keeping the work he did in the observatory confined to human technology. He tucked his hands under his arms against the cold, thankful to Someone that at least there was no wind.

Constellations completely unfamiliar spread out above him. He didn’t have to really look hard to sense where the Milky Way was, since home simply called to him. It was low in the sky, almost blocked by a frothy pink nebula.

He glanced around him, wrinkling his nose and nodding once. “Great. Just great,” he whispered in a puff of white, residual magic creating air to simulate breath. If he couldn’t use miracles to keep his body warm, he was going to discorporate from plain old hypothermia before long. He _really_ didn’t think this through. At least he teleported somewhere stunning.

It was a sight he didn’t deserve. The reality of what he’d just _done_ made his entire body shiver. He’d killed someone. He’d _killed_ someone! And not just anyone, but an _angel._ As annoying as they all were, Jahaziel never did want to hurt any of them _ever._ But he’d erased Dolmiel from existence, and the screams only just died off three seconds after he’d teleported here. 

He didn’t actually mean to kill him. Really, the fire was clearly hellish! You could feel how angry it was down the block! It was Dolmiel’s own damned fault he didn’t get out of the way fast enough!

Jahaziel paused and groaned, tilting his head back and staring up at the humming moon. No. It was _his_ fault. No question about that. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the aurora. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh I _highly_ doubt that,” said a familiar, tight voice behind him.

His eyes fell shut, taking in a freezing breath through his nose. “Can you not give me _five bloody--_ ”

Two bands of blinding light cut him off by latching around his arms and torso like ropes. Their weight absolutely _crushed_ him, bringing him down to a thud on his side on the icy ground. Jahaziel had to gasp for air, using a small miracle to protect his body from being flattened. “Wh--” he strained, only able to move his legs and head. He looked at Uriel. “What the _hell_ is this?!”

Uriel’s usually smug or featureless demeanor was absolutely disrupted. “Ropes coated in neutron stardust. Heaviest stuff in the universe.” They stood askance to Jahaziel, ready at a moment’s notice to _fight._ Their mouth was tight, hands balled into fists, and their eyes had turned a bright shade of topaz yellow. “There is nowhere in this universe you can hide from me,” they growled, dangerously quiet.

Jahaziel raised his brows. He really had to admit he was silently impressed. He never would have thought of a restraining device like this. “Oh, I think I still have some--”

“ _Shut up!_ ” the archangel barked, their voice suddenly deafening. “You... _you,_ ” they leveled a finger at him, “have always been **rotten** to the core, but I didn’t think you’d _ever_ stoop this low. Dolmiel did nothing to you!” They were starting to get emotional, their voice breaking, the heat behind their words enough to melt the ice around them. “Not even demons kill their own! Not for anything! You don’t deserve Hell! You deserve the same cruelty!”

“ _Uriel_ that is quite enough!” came Michael’s prim but firm voice to the right. 

All around them the High Council had appeared once again, everyone dressed in winter attire. They all looked at Jahaziel in a similar fashion, but not anywhere near as emotional. They were afraid of him, and he found the feeling distinctly strange. Never in his life would he have considered himself a criminal, yet here he was - jury of his peers, all wondering if he had any other tricks up his sleeve. Worried enough to bind him in something damn near unbreakable. Worried enough that he might do something else to them rather than accept his fate. Had he any tricks to actually offer, he may have considered it.

“They’re right though!” exclaimed Raphael. “Not even I can undo the damage done to that poor angel.”

“He does deserve worse than to Fall,” said Jophiel, and Jahaziel had to admit he was actually made to feel a little guilty. He’d rather liked her more than the rest, all things considered. “We’re fully willing to change this sentence.”

“ _No,_ no,” Gabriel asserted, “this _only_ works if Azrikam’s anger is both directed at Heaven _and_ Jahaziel for letting himself Fall!”

“Meaningless details!” shouted Uriel. They manifested their winged gold halberd and leveled it at Jahaziel’s neck. Their eyes turned fully glowing yellow, pupils no longer visible. “He deserves to die!”

“ _Control yourself, archangel!_ ” Michael hissed through clenched teeth, sounding practically offended. (And Jahaziel could easily guess why. An archangel shouldn’t show Wrath or Hate, and he was shocked they were going to let this display go when it happened directly in front of them. He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him though. Considering everything else.) The head archangel firmly waved their hand at the ground, and Uriel’s halberd disappeared from existence again. “You will _step back._ Another word, and you will be removed.”

It clearly took Uriel considerable effort to obey their superior. They made a single step away, fists pale knuckled. Jahaziel wondered if being _decked_ by them was entirely out of the question either, and he tried to wiggle away as much as he could.

From his awkward angle, Jahaziel looked up to see Michael. The High Council was very close in on him, their presence overpowering. He felt sheer terror seep into him like a boat with a leak, and now it was more than the cold making him tremble uncontrollably. Oh god, if they changed their minds - if they _executed_ him here and now - he couldn’t bear it! This all seemed so ill-advised now. He shouldn’t have run. He should have just let them strike him down and found Aziraphale as fast as possible - try to prevent his prophesied rage somehow. He didn’t even say goodbye to him! The only person that ever mattered!

Michael’s already small lips were impossibly thin. “As much as this change of events has me agreeing with Jophiel and Raphael,” they said tightly, “we do not have the current means or resources to change this traitor’s sentence.” What they weren’t saying was their contact in Hell for the same means of killing angels was otherwise engaged. That demon was assisting his superior with the plans for a certain child in the Valley of Megiddo. Even though there were fifty of him too, the original among them was the only one that contacted Heaven. “And you are correct as well Gabriel. He needs to be alive for the beacon to work properly.” Their ice blue eyes flicked up to Camael. “Jahaziel simply disappearing will do us no good. Azrikam will spend the rest of eternity looking for him before he leads us to Hell’s army. And you’d sooner die of old age before you’d convince him to stop.”

After a single nod from the eldest, Camael leaned down and picked up Jahaziel to his feet. The ropes were now light enough to allow him to stand, but he couldn’t have casted a miracle if he tried. Refusing to go out sniveling, he held his head high, fixing his old boss with a smug stare. “Well? What are you all--”

The clang of seven weapons being drawn filled his ears before he could react. Three swords, a mace, spear, halberd, and axe plunged not into his body, but his _spirit._ And when they all pulled away, ripping and tearing the remaining faith and holiness within him, the ropes vanished. The High Council, alien sky, and planet were gone. He couldn't see. Everything went impossibly black.

The shock was all so much worse than he bargained for. Unadulterated hopelessness entombed him instantly as if he was trapped in the very ice he’d been standing on. His halo, always out of phase but with him, shattered forever. Every shred of peaceful holiness he took for granted bled away, replaced with a roiling, volatile wickedness. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even hear himself cry out. There was nothing. Nothing but despair.


	20. Chapter 20

Wherever Jahaziel was, he stumbled to his knees, blinking rapidly and trying to force himself to breathe. He didn’t need to, but his physical body was under so much panicked stress he didn't know what else to do with himself to try and calm down. He tried snapping to calm his heart rate, but nothing happened. He frantically tried several times. Out of desperation, he let out a broken sob that he could finally hear, giving a frustrated yell at _everything_ and snapping one more time with a frustrated, upward jerk.

His heart rate slowed, and his vision filtered back. It was nothing that he was used to, but he quickly figured out that the new power available to him responded to anger and negativity instead of peace and positivity. He looked around the dismal area, and it was nothing impressive: a dirty vestibule with weak lighting buzzing overhead. Everything felt a certain degree of damp as well.

In a small glass cubicle at the other end of the room, a very surprised looking demon sat up, taking his feet off the counter. He slowly stood, staring at Jahaziel with yellow and blue tie-dye eyes. Rot and decay had stained his once green jacket and shirt to a muddled shade of brown. A very haggard looking macaw lay atop his head, feathers missing here and there, but it perked up, wheezing out a squawk.

Jahaziel got to his feet, clearing his throat. He didn’t bother agonizing over it. This was definitely Hell. Or the entrance, at least. He could feel awful things coming from the doors behind the cubicle and it only added to the edge of the metaphorical knife his emotions were currently balanced on.

“Just who are you supposed to be?” said the demon in the cubicle. His voice sounded distantly familiar, but Jahaziel couldn’t place it.

Taking a few hesitant steps forward, the angel--er, new demon--cleared his throat. “Uh. I uh. I’m… I’m new.” It almost hurt to speak. He had to get himself together, even though he felt like he’d been scraped over a mandolin. (The slicer, not the instrument. Though the instrument may have been just as unpleasant.) Reason started filtering back in and he knew that Aziraphale had to have felt him disappear from reality. Had to realize his holy essence was no more. If he didn’t, he was going to find out _very soon_ if Heaven’s plans went accordingly. Knowing those bastards, they might even tell him themselves. 

He couldn’t stay here. This was where Aziraphale was supposed to be set off. Jahaziel was the lynch pin, and he would do _anything_ not to give those cheap bastards their one up now.

The demon before him rose his patchy eyebrows. “New. As in--as in _new_ new? Newly fallen?”

Jahaziel wrinkled his nose, nerves rising again. “Er. Yep.” He noticed now that he was closer that the demon’s dull name tag said “Bifrons.” Once again, he knew it was familiar but couldn’t remember from where.

Bifrons gave an incredulous laugh, looking Jahaziel up and down. “Well I’ll be damned again. Haven’t had someone new since… what, since the earth started?” He seemed to remember himself, shaking his head from the thought. “Ah. Well, right then. I’ll need your full name, major sin for falling, previous job title, and primary unique attributes to determine your circle of Hell. No personal artefacts, no licking the walls, and no bothering the Princes unless absolutely necessary. If you’re lucky or unlucky depending on how you view it, you might end up in Satan’s circle. If you _do_ , he’s been known to eat those that irritate him. So fair warning there.”

Jahaziel swallowed. “Er. Is it… at all possible to skip the giving up personal things part?” His thoughts immediately went to the chart in his pocket, hand twitching towards it. “Please?”

Bifrons looked at him with a grimace. “Ugh. Manners will get you thrown in a torture cell in five seconds flat. And no, there’s no exceptions. How do I know you haven’t brought something holy down here?”

“Oh nooooo, no, not holy at all! See?” He pulled out a corner of the chart gently. “No burning. Old sentimental thing really. Won’t even be noticed.”

Bifrons’ brow quirked. “Okay, while I appreciate you already trying to break the rules, _Hell’s_ rules are ones we need to actually follow.” The demon snapped and the chart was suddenly in his hands inside the cubicle.

Jahaziel’s eyes shot open. Oh why did he even _say_ anything?! “Hey! No! I need that back!” 

“Don’t test me, new guy. I _have_ to burn this.”

“NO, DON’T!” Jahaziel shot both hands onto the cloudy glass desperately, face smashed against it. “Don’t,” he said in a more even tone. “ _Please_ do not destroy it. Stuff it in a drawer somewhere or hang it up, I don’t care. Just. Don’t.” Sad eyes gazed at the chart. “That is _all_ I have left to my name.” If he remembered correctly, he wouldn’t even have _that_ for much longer, either.

Jahaziel expected the demon to laugh in his face and set it on fire anyway. Fold it into one of those little paper triangle things kids flicked about. But to his surprise, Bifrons opened the ancient paper and studied it. “What is it then? Why’s it so important?”

Jahaziel didn’t know how to explain to this random demon that it was his first fond memory of a date, but a clever idea occurred to him. “It’s from thousands of years ago. A symbol of selfishness and my very first sin against Heaven.”

Looking mildly impressed, Bifrons looked back down at it. After a minute he shrugged. “Oh, what the heaven, why not? Least it isn’t actually going into Hell.” He turned around, producing pins out of thin air and tacking the paper onto a stained cork board behind him. “Satisfied?”

Trying not to mention how much he wished Bifrons hadn’t _poked holes in the priceless parchment,_ he gave a tight smile. But his relief was the most refreshing thing he’d felt in quite some hours. “Thank you.”

“Told you. Gonna get tossed about this place like a green New Years’ whore if you keep saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ But right. Now.” Bifrons leaned on the counter, beckoning Jahaziel with two fingers. “Give with the name and details.”

Jahaziel’s eyes widened. Oh dear. “Ah… Jay - Jahaziel. I... “ Oh, what had they said about him? Not like it mattered, he was supposed to fall anyway. “I guess I kind of… lollygagged. With Heaven-mandated tasks. And I… was just... “ He was a pawn. But he didn’t really think that was a real answer. “An agent, I suppose. Oversaw Heaven’s larger projects. Um. The Flood. Moses. Sodom and Gomorrah.”

Bifrons wrote things down, nodding. He seemed impressed. “Been with the company a while then. Damn.”

Jahaziel nodded distantly. “Since the beginning and before. It’s all I knew, really. I tried to be good for so long…” And now his head shook, and he sighed. “For all the good it did me. Pointless, in the end. Still wound up here.”

Bifrons looked at him at that, nodding sympathetically. “We’ve got a demon up top that you should talk to. Does a really good job of putting things into perspective. Got a real ‘work smarter, not harder’ attitude about everything.” He gestured around the cubicle, and Jahaziel took note of just how… homey it may have seemed for a demon. “Used to run my ass off trying to reach my quota. Got my eyes opened, and now I’m down here filtering incoming souls. It’s boring, but at least I got the bosses off my back. All the time in the world to do whatever I want. Before Armageddon, anyway.” 

After a moment of thought, Jahaziel finally came up with something. “I like word games,” he supplied casually as he could, only half paying attention. “Keeps the mind sharp.”

Bifrons pointed the pen at him, waving it a little. “That’s the ticket.” He finished writing that then he looked up once more. “Ah, and unique attributes?”

Jahaziel had to pause at that. “Wh-wait, why do you need that?”

“Various reasons. Need a more personalized demon name to leave your holy one behind.” Bifrons touched the beak of his macaw with his pen. The bird tried to bite it, but he moved away too quickly. “Also determines which infernal creature would best pair with you. They hone and increase your demonic power.”

“Er. I mean, it’s pretty simple. I’m serpentine by nature.” But if this was true, why the hell didn’t Aziraphale have some kind of beat up looking turtle dove? “Are those... optional?”

Bifrons looked pretty surprised at that. “Yeah, but... Why wouldn’t you want more power?”

Jahaziel grimaced. As much as he liked lazing about in the sun in his snake form, he didn’t like the idea of another sitting on his head 24-7, making him look like some sort of dime store Medusa. He’d worked far too many millennia on refining his style for that. “Seems a tad unfair,” he reasoned. “If you can’t do a job on your own power, are you really that powerful to begin with?”

Bifrons frowned for a moment, looking like he was about to be offended. His macaw certainly was, feathers puffing out and giving a growl. The demon considered it for a little longer before humming. “Hmph. That’s... one way to look at it. Not a super popular choice, especially if you weren’t one of the higher muckety-mucks. And even a lot of them chose to take one.” He shrugged. “But whatever, it’s your life. Serpentine. Pretty straightforward then.” He wrote a few more things down, taking the paper and feeding it into a little machine. A few moments later, a _ka-chunk_ sound was heard, and he opened a small slot, pulling out what looked like a punch card. It was sent under a teller’s glass-like opening, and he gestured for Jahaziel to take it. “Everything you need to know is right there. Hall to your left. You’ll see the door. Sit and wait.” He smiled, and the macaw made an unruly sort of noise before squawking ‘welcome to Hell!’

Jahaziel managed an uneasy smile and a wave before heading where instructed.


	21. Chapter 21

When nothing happened, when Armageddon didn’t rain fire and fury down in the hills of Megiddo, that’s when Hastur knew something was wrong. He at least had the decency to not scream in the face of a child, but rather a mile away from the site after sending four of the black haired bunny demons up in flames. 

_“How could you let me be so stupid, Abarron!?”_ He howled as the next clone approached, taking up the half-melted clipboard and accepting the berating the duke gave him. “How could you let me make a _fool_ of myself like that!?”

“I’m… sorry, sir?”

Hastur felt some of his anger ebbing away. Well, enough to not feel the need to banish this new iteration of the lesser demon. “It’s my fault. Something…. something’s not right.” 

“Well, obviously.” Abarron flinched, holding up the clipboard in defense as Hastur reached for him again. “Obviously something’s wrong!” he amended quickly, “but I don’t think it’s your fault!”

The hand stopped mere inches from the clipboard. “Keep talking.”

“Yes. Well. It’s just us out here, right? I--all I saw was a duke of Hell doing his job. And. Armageddon not happening. You did everything right, sir. Maybe you aren’t the problem.” And he looked back over the hills, to where the American family was getting their pictures or whatever it was they were here for done. “Maybe it’s him.”

Hastur narrowed his eyes, following his gaze and contemplating what was said to him. Truthfully, he’d done everything right. He met the boy at the hills of Megiddo as prophesied. Then it dawned on him, and his eyes widened.

“The boy.” A growl rose in his throat, and he grabbed the shoulders of his subordinate. _”THE BOY!”_ His growl grew into another shriek, and the fifth demon crumbled to ash in his grasp.

The mix up. The mix up Ligur thought they had with the babies that night. They’d fucked up. _Oh they’d turned it all to shit!_

A sixth demon stepped forward, a grimy-looking cellphone in his hand. “Shall I alert someone of a higher authority?” This Abarron seemed far less nervous than his previous iterations, only kicking away what remained of the clipboard. Hastur grit his teeth. “Can’t have a war without an Antichrist.”

“ _No._ Silence. I need to think.” Hastur was gone in a green and brown whoosh before he answered. He teleported to his humid, leaky division office where demons were “tidying” up their desks for the upcoming war. Hastur’s black eyes were fixated on only one of them.

Before Ligur could even look up, Hastur had darted across the room in a single second blur. The chameleon demon glanced at him mildly as he stuffed a few infernal weapons into his inner coat pockets. “Everything go well?”

The duke pinned him to the wall by his neck. “Our master’s son is _bloody missing!_ ” he grit out, barely able to keep his voice down so others wouldnt overhear.

Several of his underlings looked up before pointedly going back to their duties and quickly filing out. Within practically thirty seconds, they were alone.

Ligur’s eyes and chameleon turned a shade of fearful slate grey. He pried the duke’s hands off him with considerable effort, and Hastur’s grip went to the demon’s lapels instead. “What do you mean missing?” Ligur hissed, his throat raspy. “You sent word that the family arriv—”

“ _A_ family arrived, not the right one! You,” Hastur leveled a finger in his right-hand demon’s face. “You mixed the infants up that night. Don’t bother to deny it. I remember it _vividly._ ”

Being one of the _very_ few lesser demons that wasn't entirely afraid to speak frankly with his superior, Ligur sneered, eyes shifting to muddy red. “ _We_ mixed them up then. I weren’t the one holding him. You can’t just pin this on me because I was there too!”

Hastur’s gaze went distant. He was right. He let go of Ligur, and his hands balled into fists.

“Why do you think the kid was one of the other babies?” the subordinate demanded.

“Because nothing fucking happened, that’s why!” Hastur spat out, his voice going higher pitched. “I did everything I was supposed to do and _nothing!_ ” He pulled at the edges of his frayed wig atop his equally agitated frog. “Oh… Oh Satan forgive us, no one can find out about this!” he rasped unsteadily. His world felt like it was crashing down around him. He couldn’t believe--and _under his own watch_ \--

“Wait wait, who says it’s _our_ fault though?!” demanded Ligur, his calm disrupted by the same conclusions Hastur was making. “No one does know,” he looked around the empty office just to be sure. “No one knew we were involved that night. It was Azrikam’s responsibility.”

Hastur paused. He wanted nothing more than to just let the blame fall to Azrikam too. No one down here trusted that native fraternizer. But the simple fact was that they’d gone into the convent after Azrikam left. And burnt the place to the ground. If this screw up came under question--as in question from the Dark Council--the truth was going to come out. The second that Satan looked upon the two of them, it was over. They couldn’t let it get to that point.

“What about all those reports he’s sent over the last decade? Eh? They were on the kid you just met right?” Ligur’s eyes shifted all colors as he thought. “He’s got to know something. You found out within moments that the child wasn’t our master’s.”

“He wouldn’t betray us. He might be a silvertongue, but he wouldn’t go that far,” Hastur said. “All he really did was talk his way... into a... cushy position,” he trailed off, his eyes growing wider. Passed his former panic, his thoughts became sharper and more organized.

“What if he does know, your Ugliness? What if he figured it out too and did nothing about it?”

“There was no hound,” breathed Hastur. “He reported that the hound had showed up on the child’s birthday. This one had no hound.” He looked at Ligur finally. “You and I set it free ourselves. He _was_ lying.”

Ligur’s eyes widened as well. He moved away when glowing heat appeared behind Hastur’s teeth. “I knew it. I _always knew it!_ He’s a damned liar!” Fire seeped from around a shrill yell and exploded into a severely outdated computer, sending it flying across the room. “I KNEW IT!” Seething, he turned to Ligur, who looked to the now smashed computer with a mildly impressed look, then back to him.

“Well.” Ligur rolled his shoulders as he adjusted his jacket proper. “Least it wasn’t our fault.”

Above, Abarron was watching the humans in Megiddo get back in their cars when he heard the dusty, dry ground crumbling behind him. He turned to see Duke Hastur and Ligur rising up from the earth. Hastur looked even more pissed than before, but he also had a dark quirk of a smile as he approached the lesser demon. “Alert the higher authorities, then. The Antichrist is missing, and the demon _Azrikam,_ ” he said with a great deal of relish, “is to blame.”

\--

Michael hung up their tablet in the stairway to Heaven from Purgatory. Their face had gone just about as tight as it had when Uriel had shown such anger earlier that same day. Thinning their lips and flicking away the tablet, they climbed the stairs. Once they made it across the realm back to the High Council meeting room, the only one left inside was Gabriel. He’d redressed for the upcoming battle, but the archangel’s idea of a turtleneck being suitable for war was… not what Michael had in mind. They’d have to fix that later. But right now, they had far more pressing matters.

Gabriel turned to look at them as they approached, raising his brows and holding out his hands expectantly. “Well? Everything perfect? Beacon go off yet?”

Clenching their teeth, Michael shook their head once. “No. Not yet. There’s been a different complication.” They pulled at the webbing of their fingers, almost scowling at the perfect, impossible cities for human souls below their central holy building. “Evidently, the Antichrist has been mislaid. Hell believes it was intentional as well. Done by our own sleeper agent Aziraphale.”

Gabriel frowned. “Well that’s… decidedly not perfect at all.”

“No.” Michael shook their head again. “It isn’t.”

Steepling his fingers at his waist, Gabriel contemplated for a moment. “So this means that Jahaziel’s reports are probably completely bogus as well, then.”

“I would imagine so. Both of them working together from the start and all, naturally. They’ve most likely been sending both sides reports about the same ordinary boy.” Michael sounded vaguely bitter. “They weren’t supposed to interfere with this. Just be content in one another all this time and mind their own business. I _told_ Beelzebub they shouldn’t have chosen Aziraphale for that delivery.”

“Well they _are_ all about rebellion,” said Gabriel unhelpfully. “We need a way to find him.”

“And _just how_ exactly do you propose we do that, Archangel?” Michael demanded, looking at him like he was a child. “He’s not meant to be found by anyone until the end. And they’re _both_ demons now. We have no way of locating Jahaziel, either.”

Gabriel thought on that, then snapped and pointed at Michael with a grin. “The horsemen will find him.”

“Yes, and we can’t find them either,” they said, getting slightly impatient.

Gabriel’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he brought his fingers up under his lips, pacing slowly. He got about fifteen paces away before he paused, turning slowly. He clasped his hands together, pointing at Michael. “What about the Faithful?”

Michael scrunched their face in confusion for a moment. “What about them?”

“There are plenty of pious people on life support, right? They’ve always been our best surveillance system on earth since day one.”

“And an _outdated_ one, Gabriel. Be serious.” Michael rolled their eyes and sighed. “Most of them can’t even _move.”_

He held his hands out in a confident gesture for a moment. “Please.” As if he was anything _but_ serious. He started walking back to them. “And that’s my point. Why not just,” he made a gesture with one hand as if pulling a plug and clicked his tongue for emphasis, “get them here a little quicker? They all observe a bit of the earth as their spirits float up anyway. It’ll be the perfect world wide, bird’s eye view to spot any odd magical effects happening in any area. Be it from the horsemen or the Antichrist himself, we’ll definitely find him that way.”

“Hm.” Their gaze dropped. “Raphael certainly wouldn’t agree to something like this. Neither would Jophiel.”

Gabriel looked pointedly around the council room. “I don’t see them here, do you? Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission as humans would say.” He smiled that millionaire’s smile at them, waggling his eyebrows temptingly.

Michael eyed their subordinate, sighing impatiently through their nose. At least someone else had the greater priorities straight.

\--

“Have you tried _not_ being the Antichrist?” Wensleydale asked meekly, throwing the stick Dog had run back with. He glanced up at Adam. “You know. Just… not doing that.”

The brunette gave him a look, doodling in the dirt and leaves with another stick, not really paying attention to the sigils he was unknowingly drawing out. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Just don’t be awful,” Pepper supplied, kicking a rock, which Brian blocked from going between a makeshift goal of two fallen tree stumps. “You know. Be nice to everyone.”

Adam let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t be nice to everyone, Pepper. Being nice to everyone means I’m being nasty to some other people. Whether I want to be or not. It isn’t that simple.”

“Well I don’t know then.” Another rock was kicked by Pepper, angrily this time, hitting Brian square in the knee. He doubled over with a grunt of pain.

“Hey!” Adam barked, voice more guff and intense than he intended. Dog’s eyes began glowing gently, and he too stared at the girl. “Don’t take your anger out on him. Apologize!”

Immediately, Pepper looked to Brian, her eyes slightly glazed. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was mechanical and monotonous, and when she finished speaking her skin had taken on a ghastly pale shade. She looked at Adam worriedly. “Th-that,” she stammered, taking the smallest step away from him and pointing. “Don’t do things like _that._ ”

Somewhat horrified, Adam looked between her and then down at what he’d been drawing with the stick. The runes were glowing and smouldering in the leaves before Adam hastily kicked them apart. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry! I told you, I don’t know what I’m doing!”

The rest of the Them went slightly on edge. The odd little things that had been happening on the news the past few days were arguably the weirdest of their lives. Adam had tried to keep quiet about what was happening to him, but his nightmares kept coming to life. The things Nanny talked about kept manifesting, and he just _had_ to talk to someone about it. It had taken a lot of convincing since Adam had no real control over his powers. It took commanding Dog, because he could do anything Adam wanted naturally, to climb a tree and defy gravity by walking upside-down under a branch. Only then did he convince his friends he was telling the truth.

But _controlling_ Pepper was new. He’d only said something that his parents or Nanny would say in that situation, and suddenly his friend was his puppet. “I don’t want any of this stuff to happen! Nanny said it wasn’t going to if I didn’t do anything! But I’m still doing it without meaning to!”

Pepper looked to Wensleydale and Brian. They were growing afraid of him, but Adam was still their friend. (They’d faced far more trying hardships together. Or so it would seem in their mind.) Brian bravely took a small step forward. “M-maybe it doesn’t have to be all scary.” They all looked at him incredulously. “No really! It could be like in the X-men. You have superpowers, so you just have to learn to use them right.”

Pepper looked wary but Wensleydale chimed in again. “Yeah… yeah, Brian’s right! Like if you say that you dreamed up the cyclops and the Mothman, then maybe tonight you can make yourself think about other things.”

“Yeah! Like interstellar travel! And aliens being real!”

“Aliens _are_ real,” asserted Pepper. “He can’t imagine up something that already exists right?”

The two spiraled into an argument over this while Adam’s panic started to calm down. He frowned at his friends after a minute or so. “But… I can’t just make myself dream about aliens,” he said, interjecting and halting their bickering. “You can never dream about stuff you want to.”

The Them were quiet for a while. “Yeah,” agreed Pepper. “Did your angel nanny say anything else about stopping the end of the world?”

“He said all I had to do was know right from wrong and not do anything. But what I think is right is wrong. Telling you to apologize. I didn’t mean to actually make you do it.” Adam gathered his knees up onto his throne. “I just _wanted_ you to.”

Pepper chewed on her lip for a moment. “Then don’t want anything. Not until the end of the world or whatever is passed. It’s only a couple days from now, right?”

Adam frowned, scowling just a little. “How am I not going to want anything? I’ll want to eat and play and go to sleep. Or I might see something on the telly that looks like fun.”

“Then do things you don’t want to do?” supplied Wensleydale shakily.

“Like eat broccoli,” suggested Brian. “And watch your old Nan’s favorite shows.”

“And don’t fall asleep!”

Pepper’s eyebrows rose at that. “That sounds like the best plan to me.”

Nodding wordlessly, Adam was just thankful for some kind of help. He didn’t mention that he was still terrified that he may cause a super-hurricane in England even being awake. Or cause killer clowns to be real. He wished he never walked downstairs to see his parents watching that one late at night. It was as if every single thing he was ever remotely scared of or had heard of brought themselves to his mind.

He could do this. He could stay up until Friday. Right?


	22. Chapter 22

With everything new being thrown at Jahaziel, he at least wasn’t made to change. Or, rather, his Hell-mandated form of dress was extremely similar to what he’d been wearing topside: black, red, and gold. If there was anything he could find comforting about this new change of emotional scenery it was that his sense of style wouldn’t be called into question at the end of it all. What remained now, however, was getting _out_ of Hell before Aziraphale found him.

Which led to him feeling just that much worse about everything yet again. The end was nigh. He was a demon now. And despite sharing a boss with Aziraphale, he’d have to spend the rest of eternity - however long _that_ ended up being - avoiding him. He wasn’t sure even Heaven knew how long the war would rage without the edge the fledgeling demon was supposed to give them, but he remained steadfast in the idea that not helping them was still the best course of action. Of course, he’d briefly entertained the idea of trying to smooth things out with Azzy before he had a chance to go off and tell Heaven where to start lobbing attacks, but the longer he spent in Hell the more hopeless it all seemed. The real nature of the beast, he supposed. How on earth did Aziraphale ever counter this… feeling? He still managed to seem happy as always. But then, he had to wonder, just how much of that could be attributed to simply spending time with him? Downtrodden, more so than he ever had been before, he slumped in his seat, waiting for Belphegor to come and give him an assignment.

It could have been ten minutes, it could have been ten years, but he finally heard the door next to him opening. Of all things he found himself grateful - he wasn’t sure how many more times he could read the grimy ‘So you’re in Hell, what now?’ pamphlet that had been helpfully left on the small table next to him.

“Been a while since we’ve had anyone new.” The voice had a deep basso to it, and Belphegor spoke as if every word was considered very seriously before being said aloud. It almost drove Jahaziel mad, but he adjusted to the slow, deliberate speech pattern and realized it was perfectly befitting of the Prince of Sloth. He looked over, recoiling just a bit. The prince was top heavy with twiggy legs, and his face sported a smashed nose and unkempt beard down to his chest. His brown suit held no pride to its upkeep, seams barely hanging on as if they couldn’t be cared about. This was also the very first demon Jahaziel remembered actually seeing with the cliched tail and horns. His thin tail dragged on the floor behind him, full of the same stringy brown hair as his head. Goat-like horns cradled a sloth’s head, keeping it from rocking about. The hell-animal’s arms hung down the sides of the demon’s head like unkempt sideburns, claws tangled in his beard.

Now, Jahaziel may have been vain, but did everyone in Hell have to look so…. _ugly?_ He winced but smiled, waving meekly. “Yup. That’s ah… Hi. Listen.” He needed to keep himself off any sort of radar until the world ended. Aziraphale could _not_ find him - and in Hell, he wasn’t sure of any type of hazing rituals, but he couldn’t chance it. He hooked a thumb at himself. “Cast out for Sloth. I don’t know what sort of calumny you’ve heard about me, but I’ve got… Ah. I.” He stood, edging around the large prince hesitantly. “Being an angel for so long, you know? Lots of time to. Build things up for Heaven. Know all the best places to um… Corrupt. And do… bad things.” Mind scrambled for words. “Egypt! Yes, yes, Egypt. Great setup there for. Sinning. I thought I’d make a good first impression and go… take care of that. Go team Hell.” He pumped a fist in the air weakly, a feeble grin accompanying the action. 

Belphegor raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got something in mind already?” 

The redhead nodded, almost enthusiastically. “Yes! I’ve. Unless you… Have something else for me…?” He really hoped after so long that there wouldn’t be jobs piling up that needed to be done, and thought it prudent to mention something he could do right out of the starting gate. Completely ignoring the fact it was to get as far away from Hell as possible short of jumping galaxies again. Which he wasn’t even certain he’d still be able to do after everything that had happened. 

The prince shook his head slowly, shrugging. “It’s been so long since anyone new’s been brought to me. There aren’t a lot of entry-level temptings that we can really use as an example. If you’ve got something already lined up, then more power to you. Just report back when you’re done, and we can get you some proper training. We’ll call it a learning experience. But don’t bother me otherwise.”

For all he had feared about Hell, this seemed rather tame to him. Not that he was going to question it - he only smiled again, nodding eagerly. “Right. Of course. Report back right here. No bothering.” He’d avoid him for as long as possible, too. Aziraphale had mentioned something like a job posting - maybe it really _could_ be that hands-off. He sure hoped so.

And it seemed like it would be - Belphegor nodded once and retreated, closing the door with his creepy tail behind him.

As much as he’d hated reading it so many damn times, the pamphlet had actually given him a rather useful rundown of things he’d been wondering. He knew from seeing Aziraphale do it that he could still teleport with miracles, and everything he could do as an angel was more or less still possible as a demon. Everything just came from a different power source now. This was another small comfort to him. He just had to get used to the opposite means of invoking them. More out of necessity than any kind of graciousness - he refused to believe that anger and negativity would power his actions. It was just… petrol instead of electricity. Even still, it did take him some concentration to actually _get_ himself to Egypt. But he managed.

Night had fallen over the great pyramids, and despite the scenery having undergone so many thousands of years of change, he found the very place he and Aziraphale had spent time together so very long ago.

Laid on the ground, staring at the stars, he finally allowed himself time to process all that had happened, and would happen. He grieved. He grieved not for his loss of status, but for the loss of his loved one. The loss of humanity that he could only keep at bay for so long. Everything they had done, all the actions they’d taken contrary to what was expected of them had amounted to nothing. And what had he gained? An eternity of loneliness. Despair. Nore more adventure. No more dates. No more long nights. No more quiet mornings. No more sweets being delicately hand-fed to him. No more love. 

No more Aziraphale. 

In times like these, when things seemed irredeemable, despite the questions and doubts he held, he’d turn in on himself and look to his Faith. But what was inside him now was no longer a place of warmth and hope and light. It was darkness that filled every corner of his mind, every corner of his being. It was hopelessness and fear, sorrow and corruption. Silence. Emptiness. Stripped of what had protected him for so long, the redhead had nothing.

The entire world was different, now. This place in Egypt had once brought him so much comfort, the memories of their first night together bringing him solace and grounding him whenever things got almost too heavy to bear. As a demon now, the more he tried to drum up that same warmth from the cold sand beneath him, the darker things became; the dimmer the light seemed. There was no goodness left here. Had there ever been any in the first place? Even his memories felt drenched in trauma. What did it matter, that they had that moment between them, when hours later the entire city had been ravaged by Pestilence? Death? How _foolish_ he had been to think fondly of this place before. How _stupid_ he had been to consider Egypt to be anything other than a source of misery. How _selfish_ he had been to think so highly of himself when he knew his actions were to result in such an extreme tragedy. Just as they always had, and just as they always would.

Jahaziel’s agony brought him to weep. Lost, helpless, and hopeless. It was a physical pain that made him ache, made every sob laborious. There truly was nothing left for him now. There was nothing left _to_ him. Everything Heaven had made him do had only led to destruction. Every lie he’d been told and followed had resulted in humans dying. Everything he had ever been, had ever stood for, amounted to… This. The destruction of humanity was, and would be until the end of the world, all his fault. It was now, more than ever, he felt as though he truly belonged to Hell. And a smaller part of him believed he had all along.

He’d never felt so empty.

He turned onto his side as his tears hit the sand, unyielding no matter how hard he tried to keep himself together. He was just too overwhelmed to do anything but feel sorry for himself. And he reasoned that it was alright, after a few minutes of trying to stop. It was alright. He could give himself these few hours of reflection before he had to get up and resume his duties as a messenger of Hell, a bringer of corruption. It may have even been a simple job, given how little respect he had for any of his Heaven-mandated tasks. But it just felt so _different._ It was as if he didn’t even know himself anymore, and he wondered too if that’s just what happened to a demon. Had Aziraphale struggled with this as well? Did he still? Did he feel like such a stranger in his own body, he was sometimes brought to tears? Did it ever stop? Thinking on it, the blonde did seem to have an issue keeping his second set of eyes from leaking more often than not. Curling tighter, his heart ached for him more, and he cried harder. Had he really spent so long with this pain? Did _anything_ the redhead do ever help?

The more he let himself dwell, the further he fell into despair. What would Aziraphale do in these final moments without him, if the time they spent together did indeed keep these atrocious feelings at bay? A sob wracked his form as he imagined him somehow obtaining holy water, and dousing himself with it. Would he really do that? If Aziraphale felt as helpless as the fledgling demon did right now, the idea wasn’t entirely far-fetched. Hell, who knows what would have happened if a cup of holy water appeared to him in the desert at this very moment. He couldn’t say with any amount of conviction that he would ignore it. And for as much as that idea scared him, he couldn’t call it anything other than wishful thinking.


	23. Chapter 23

In the old days, Hell would usually have a public service announcement when new arrivals came in. Nowadays, Aziraphale doubted the old rotting intercom system even worked. So he chose the next best bet, which was the receiving bay. It was annoying to get up there without proper cause or clearance, especially since no one but one specific demon was allowed up in that lowest level of Purgatory. The last area of judgment before there was no turning back.

Using a handkerchief, he picked up one of the sticky phones in the realm directly below it, Asmodeus’ Circle of Lust. He dialed the proper three digit number for Security, and someone with a gruff, bored voice answered on the fifth ring. “What?”

“Oh hello,” Aziraphale chirped, a little overly pleasant. “I need to get up into Receiving.”

“....Who is this?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes with an annoyed sigh. “Demon Azrikam.”

“Why the fuck do you need to go to Receiving? No one goes up there.”

“Look, _what does it matter?_ I know Bifrons. Call him. Tell him it’s me. I have business with him, but I need access to the vestibule. I’ll wait.”

An irritated groan came over the speaker. “Fine. Hold.” Screaming metal music played tinnily over the speaker, and Aziraphale jerked the phone away from his ear with a scowl. _Ugh._

Over ten full minutes passed before the music stopped. “You have access,” said the bored voice over the line. Then the call went dead. Wouldn’t be Hell without awful customer service, but he was just glad this was one of the few times it actually paid off.

Aziraphale wasted no time striding through the slimy, drafty halls to the stairs that led up to Receiving. He opened the heavy door, just about scaring the pants off Bifrons behind the glass. He made a strangled yell as he fell back in his propped up chair, his macaw hovering in mid-air and screeching in outrage.

“Oh for the love of--” Aziraphale went inside the cubicle and helped the other demon to his feet.

“Would it kill you to knock?!” exclaimed Bifrons, soothing the awful bird after it landed on his hand. “Hell’s sake!”

Aziraphale fixed him with an unimpressed look. “Well, you knew I was coming. That’s not my fault you still got frightened.” Once the bird stopped squawking, something behind the bird caught his eye - a very familiar looking piece of parchment. He walked around Bifrons to gently touch it. “Oh my word,” he whispered, the full force of his relief finally allowed to wash over him. He let out an emotional, quiet laugh before he looked back at Bifrons, doing his best to keep relieved, joyous tears at bay. Really? It was that easy? All the breadcrumbs that could have been dropped. All the ways they could have been cleared away. And here this was, plain as day. Jahaziel was fine. Fallen, and an agent of Hell, but fine.

The other demon set the bird back on his head, frowning. “What?”

“This star chart. This belongs to--” Oh, he needed to phrase this carefully. Even with someone he was able to convert. A demon was a demon, and their loyalty didn’t waver. Mostly. “To... someone I’ve been expecting to show up down here.”

Bifrons blinked. “So you know about him? Yeah, he begged me not to incinerate that thing. Supposed to be some kind of symbol of selfishness, I guess. His first sin or something. Bloke was a bit out of it, but can’t blame him. We’ve all been there. I mentioned you, but he didn’t seem to know you.”

Aziraphale frowned.

“Yeah, I told him that he should talk to you about your ‘play hard, work less’ mantra. Didn’t even react. But again, he was pretty shaken up.”

A couple reasons filtered through Aziraphale’s mind, but with the shock of falling, he could indeed see Jahaziel not hearing Bifrons trying to make conversation. He did have trouble concentrating sometimes, especially if he was focusing on something greater than what was happening to him. It could also be that he was trying to avoid showing familiarity like Aziraphale was. “Well… that makes sense, I suppose. Our contact has been purely for tempting,” he lied through his teeth quickly. He pulled one of the pins off. “I’m taking this.”

“W-wait! Oi!”

“Oh hush, I know you don’t care. You only enforce the zero possessions policy because you don’t want management coming down on you for the small things.”

Bifron’s upper lip twitched, and his gaze fell. “You don’t know that,” he said quietly, just being defiant at this point. He cleared his throat. “But wait a second, you said you contacted him for tempting?”

Aziraphale paused. “I’ve ah.” Still had to play the part, didn’t he? “Yes. I’ve had quite a lot to do with him falling.”

Bifrons’ eyes went impossibly wide. “Did you…? You really did tempt him to it?”

Aziraphale felt a huge stab of guilt, but he played it off with a shrug as he pulled off the last of the pins. Should have been something he was proud of. Much as he despised the implications, he’d use them to his advantage. “In a manner of speaking. Yes. Certainly helped matters along.” He carefully folded the chart up, slotting it in his inner coat pocket.

The other demon looked him up and down. “Damn. An angel. An old one to boot. I didn’t even think that was possible. Look at you, Azrikam.” Something akin to pride coloured his words, Bifrons smiling wryly as he gently smacked the back of his hand against Aziraphale’s chest. “Are you gunning for Duke or something?”

“ _Certainly not._ ” Ugh. The very idea. Handkerchief was removed again to wipe the grime off his jacket Bifrons’ hand had left. ”Let’s just call it a… er, pet project.” _Oh, if Jahaziel only heard that one._ “But must be going, you know. You’ve been very helpful, old chap!” Aziraphale double snapped himself out of Hell to the exact place he knew his favorite idiot would be hiding, considering the chart was the one thing he brought with him. He knew for certain he wouldn’t still be in Hell, no matter where he got sent. Earth was their real home.

The cooling Egyptian air around him smelled entirely different, but the same dusty dryness invaded his senses. He closed his upper eyes and flicked his glasses open. He scanned the sparse streets around him with his sensitive lower set, and he didn’t have to search long. Jahaziel’s familiar but now wretched, lonely aura flooding the area was quite easy to spot. All Aziraphale had to do was follow it, his heart breaking for his love. The new demon clearly had no idea how to conceal himself anymore. Neither did Aziraphale back in the first days. There was no way he could blame him, however. Even he hadn’t been so beside himself when his Fall had happened. No, this was far harder on Jahaziel than it had been him, as he always had figured it might be.

He found his fallen angel laying next to a brick walkway on the sandy ground, faced away from him. He was so happy to see him, that this wild goose chase was finally over, but Aziraphale’s face contorted. It broke his heart that Jahaziel felt the need to hide. Of course, he perfectly understood why. He quietly approached, kneeling down behind him. He gathered himself before reaching out.

“The darkness is always the worst at the beginning.” His voice was exceptionally gentle, though shook with the emotion of someone that had very nearly lost a loved one. “You are asking so many questions, and you are feeling so much pain. But it gets easier.” He placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, feeling a deep sadness at how much it was trembling. “Please, don’t give in.” 

The redhead gasped, and in doing so got a nice throat full of sand. He sat up, sputtering and choking, turning to the origin of the voice and knocking Aziraphale’s hand away in the process. Emotions scattered in his head like a game of 52 pickup, the most prominent being ‘Oh hell, it’s Aziraphale’ and ‘Oh hell, it’s Aziraphale’ - both similar yet entirely different. The demon couldn’t see him like this. That was his primary concern. His secondary concern was that he - Aziraphale - was _here._ He _found_ him, in spite of everything. Both of his strongest concerns only produced a helpless barking cough through sand that was intensified by a more earnest sobbing. He couldn’t even find the strength to get up and flee, and for the third time in too soon he felt everything melt around him. He’d tried so hard. And now Heaven was still going to get its way. It just wasn’t _fair._

“I can’t--” he croaked, “you can’t - Aziraphale, _please_ \--” What was left of his soul was shredded to nothingness as he all but begged him to leave, curling against the side of what was, so many centuries ago, a stone hut. Just a few feet behind him, the street artist had drawn the very star chart he’d abandoned in Hell. He would have given absolutely anything to go back to that time. He may not have done anything differently, apart from spending more time together. That’s all he wanted. More time.

He could barely see Aziraphale through his tears, arms raising as if to shield himself from view, scooting away from him like a frightened, wounded animal.

Crestfallen, his heart shattered, Aziraphale drew closer. After the observatory, after thinking he’d succumbed to the flames of Hell itself, the idea that his angel didn’t want to see him was very nearly more than he could bear. “Jahazi--”

“Don’t,” the newly fallen angel spat bitterly, flicking the punch card at him with another sob, and a cough. “It’s _Crawly_ now. Bloody damn joke I am to them. I’m a _sss-ssssnake_. We don’t _crawl._ ”

Moving closer, Aziraphale gathered his face into his hands, forcing their eyes to meet. His own were bare, puffy and bloodshot from his own emotional outburst despite it having been hours before. Pain tended to linger among their kind. And it had been indeed quite a while since he’d endured it so _raw_. “Perfect nonsense,” he soothed quietly, bringing their foreheads together, brushing thumbs under his eyes. “You will _always_ be Jahaziel to me, and you will _always_ be my angel.” 

A chill unlike anything blanketed Jahaziel’s entire form. He almost felt as if he were being entirely removed from himself; his form lingering as his thoughts drifted away. The only defense his body knew was to curl closer into the warmth Aziraphale so unconditionally provided. He was scared. Terrified. “You kn - you _know._ I’m. I--” 

Aziraphale held him close, gathering him into his arms and resting his cheek in his hair. “Listen to me. If you do not fight this, I will never speak to you again, simply because there will not _be_ a you to speak to. You _cannot_ do this alone.” Jahaziel was not weak. But Aziraphale knew him well enough to know that the former angel would lose himself to the pain and sorrow he felt, the guilt and shame of believing that falling would actually have made the demon turn his back on him. “If you give into the darkness, it consumes you. You turn into something like Hastur or Ligur. Or worse.” He stroked the brilliant red hair he’d grown so enamoured with after all these years, sighing quietly and rocking Jahaziel back and forth. They didn’t have all the time in the world, but Aziraphale would never rush him. Not through something like this. “We’re vulnerable alone, my dear. But invincible together. You _aren’t_ alone. You never will be.”

It took a good handful of minutes, but Jahaziel’s sobs turned into soft snivels, and then it was only tears that left him instead of defeated cries of anguish. It did get worse before it got better. At one point the redhead remembered just what this reunion meant and tried to push him away in an explosive fit. But Aziraphale, steadfast as ever, only continued to hold him despite the abuse. “You c-can’t. You can’t _be here.”_ Jahaziel managed miserably, curling tighter against him and feeling drained. “It’s all ruined now. Heaven… Heaven’s going to win. I couldn’t sssstop them. Not with you here.”

Confusion painted the demon’s face, pulling back just enough to eye Jahaziel. “Whatever are you talking about? Nothing has happened. It’s still a stalemate, more or less.” Come to think of it, Jahaziel had seemed almost viciously disinterested in seeing him once he arrived. That wasn’t the fallen angel he knew. And then he very suddenly remembered, very guiltily, what Jahaziel had actually gone through to get here. Before Hell. His tone was delicate once more. As much as he didn’t want to put him through this pain again, he had to know. “How did you fall, Jahaziel? What… What has you so petrified?”

Of course he wouldn’t know. What good was a secret evil plan if the pawn knew what was in store for him? “They played us for suckers, Aziraphale.” Jahaziel’s nerves were still alight with apprehension. He really... had no idea how this sleeper agent business worked. He wasn’t sure if he expected the demon to… erupt the moment he saw him, or if it was something more slow, like a lit fuse of unknown length. He supposed now, like it or not, they were going to find out. “Heaven - from the Beginning. We… You were meant to Fall.”

A cold feeling settled into Aziraphale’s stomach. Were he a newer demon himself, his anger _would_ have gotten out of hand over being played in such a way. But now, he only continued to stroke his love’s hair soothingly. “I would believe that.”

“They just needed an excuse.” The fallen angel’s next breath shuddered, and he shook his head. “I was the bloody excuse. It was my fault. Even if you hadn’t taken the blame for the apple… It would have been something else. You would have done something just sinful enough in their eyes to get caught.”

“My only sin has ever been loving you too much. And I continue to stand by it.” It… did hurt, even after all this time, to find out that the demon had been cast as the black sheep before he’d even begun to question his beliefs. But he almost immediately resigned himself to the feeling. He had stopped being disappointed by the things Heaven did quite a long time ago. “Please, continue.”

Aziraphale listened patiently as Jahaziel explained everything he’d learned when he went back to his flat, and Jahaziel did his best to recall everything that had happened since their departure. The meaning behind their names, Aziraphale’s proximity to him being a catalyst. Dolmiel’s unfortunate end. Heaven following him to make sure he wasn’t learning too much or too little until the time had come. “It was beautiful,” he found himself able to admit about the planet he had absconded to, “you would have liked it. Stars we’ve never even seen before… A baby born today won’t even see them in his lifetime.”

“Well. Perhaps one day we can see them together, after all this is sorted.” 

Again, Jahaziel shook his head. “No… I don’t think we will.” He gazed up at him, hand lifting to his cheek. “The next step of their plan should happen any minute now. Something about you being enraged with Heaven for making me Fall. And being angry with me for letting it happen. You… You set off a beacon. Or you _are_ the beacon. You tell Heaven where to deliver a first strike on Hell to give them an advantage.” Hand retracted, and he rested against him once more, fingers absently stroking the fabric of Aziraphale’s lapel. “I don’t know when it’s supposed to happen. Or what’s going to happen when you go off. That’s… You weren’t supposed to find me.” He fought the urge to run away again. There still might have been time. But Aziraphale’s presence was almost a comforting anaesthetic to his racing heart and emotions, and he kept still. “I was staying away so I didn’t give them that edge.”

In the quiet darkness of the desert around them, Aziraphale laughed. It was just a soft chuckle at first, but before long the fallen angel was nearly bouncing against him, the demon’s arms closing tighter to keep him close. Jahaziel, confused, felt his brows knit as he watched him. Had Aziraphale finally gone mad? Was _this_ the fit of fury? “Oh, my dearest angel.” The laughter subsided into a fond sigh, looking down again to wipe Jahaziel’s eyes once more, then the tears of laughter from his own. He could have explained the prophecy, sure. But more than a lifetimes-old promise, he had his own truth to prove himself with. “I have known you were going to Fall for a very, very long time. I’ve watched your faith slip away for centuries. Why, I could document your descent myself better than Heaven ever could.” He kissed Jahaziel’s forehead warmly. “I could never be mad at you for your beliefs when they coincide so closely with my own. Heaven will gain no footing here. Their plan backfired the moment I fell in love with you.” The demon shuffled around just enough to reach into his inner coat pocket, producing the folded star chart and offering it to him. “If there’s one thing they can neither account for nor control, it’s how I feel about you.”

For everything it meant to him, the chart could have been an engagement ring. Jahaziel took the folded parchment with trembling fingers, fresh tears springing into his eyes as he brought it to his lips. He cried again. For his chart, for Aziraphale. For himself and humanity. Even for Dolmiel. His shoulders shook silently as the weight of being responsible for Heaven’s potential triumph slipped away into nothingness, and Aziraphale held him close through it all.


	24. Chapter 24

The next morning rolled around on earth. None of the systematic ascending of humans below revealed anything to them more than they already knew. Strange weather patterns had started, impossible creatures galore, but nothing really… truly mythical yet. Nothing of biblical sized proportions at least.

But that wasn’t what had Michael and Gabriel in Camael’s war room at the moment. The singular beacon on the huge battle table, the only blue one in the mass of Hell’s confusing spiral, had yet to shine. It was three days until the End. The Eldest fixed Camael with a scalding gaze that made the bigger angel’s spine chill. “What do you mean ‘we haven’t heard any word’?” Michael demanded, eyes narrowed.

Not letting his fear show, Camael looked down his nose at them and replied calmly. “Beacon isn’t blinking, so I haven’t. Heard. Anything.”

“Do you realize how _absolutely unacceptable_ this is?” Michael whispered dangerously. “We will have _lost our edge entirely_ if Aziraphale does not react to the predetermined chain of events. He _needs_ to be set off.”

Camael shrugged, crossing his arms over his barrel of a chest. “Dunno why you’re taking it out on me then.” He pushed past his impatience with a twitch of a smile. He knew he was being disrespectful, but archangels or not, they were in the way, and he only had limited time left to make sure everyone was in place. “We’re relying on the element of surprise just as much as you. Six of my battalions have been at the ready since that whelp Fell.” He looked the two of them up and down. “I know you don’t want to get your own department’s hands dirty, so I think you can afford a little patience.”

Gabriel, just a hair behind Michael, raised his brows and bit both lips, looking warily to their very nearly hysterical superior. Michael wasn’t prone to the same anger that Uriel had given over to, but it had happened before. The only time they had been truly enraged was the last day their dearest friend Lucifer was in Heaven. Now, at the end of things, Gabriel and Camael had to wonder if they’d see a return of that wrath before the real battle even started.

“Patience,” echoed Michael simply, clasping their wrist in front of them. They glanced back at Gabriel. “ _Patience._ Right.” 

Everyone’s ears in the room suddenly popped, a high pitched, subtle ringing accompanying it. As almost everyone else worked their jaws, Michael slowly advanced, heels gently clicking on tile. The huge war angel involuntarily started being dragged backwards across the white floor as Michael approached. He almost lost his balance, waving his arms a bit and staring wide eyed at the furious being. “We... have waited _more than six thousand years_ for this. If he hasn’t gone off now, then when? _When?_ ” They snapped their fingers, and Jophiel was suddenly at Gabriel’s side. The messenger archangel took a surprised step away, and the disoriented Jophiel turned around to assess what was going on.

“Michael--” Gabriel started.

Michael held up a finger. “Jophiel, your prophecies have all come true thus far, correct?”

Jophiel hesitated, still trying to determine the situation. She looked up at Gabriel who winced unhelpfully, tilting his head pointedly towards the Eldest. Swallowing, she lied, “Uh, yes. All the major ones, at least.”

“‘Heaven will triumph over hell.’ Those were your exact words, correct?”

Jophiel looked to Gabriel again, mouthing, _what the hell?_ That hadn’t been a prophecy, that was just a statement in good faith. She didn’t even _remember_ how long ago she said that. This time, Gabriel only offered a full-blown shrug, shaking his head. 

“ _Correct?_ ” Michael repeated, and their words shook the room, though they never raised their tone.

“Y-yes,” she managed, her voices weak. “We did say that.”

Michael snapped Jophiel away again, focusing back on Camael. “Are you telling me you didn’t formulate some kind of backup then? Some infiltration team to delve into Hell unknown and find the weak point themselves? Do you _really_ expect me to believe that the Angel of War himself, the being who _came up with the beacon to begin with_ , didn’t account for this?” They continued forward until Camael was against a whiteboard full of possible drawn strategies. They lowered their voice for only him to hear. “What kind of strategy is that? Hm? I will not have my victory taken away by _blatant negligence._ Not by you. Not by _anyone._ And if you doubt my willingness for war in front of anyone ever again, I will personally see to your punishment.”

Not trying to fight the invisible force keeping him against the wall, Camael stayed perfectly still. His corporeal heart hammered, his body began to sweat, and his thoughts raced too much to stop any of it. It was like a great beast was before him, one that could strike him down at any second, and he knew better than to try and hide that from Michael. It was easy to forget considering it had been a millennia since they’d acted on it alone, but Michael was the one and only archangel that could cause other archangels to fall. They had created an entire new classification of sin just because Belphegor forgot for twenty short minutes to erect the walls of Eden. Camael would absolutely hate to become the Infernal Prince of Stupidity or something equally humiliating. “I don’t have a backup for this,” he admitted meekly, his former confidence gone. His subordinates in the room stared at him as he caved, and he felt utterly _disgraced._ “I shouldn’t have disrespected you. I should have thought better ahead. I apologize. Please forgive my lack of foresight.”

A messenger angel under Gabriel silently came up to her boss’s side. The archangel tore his violet gaze away from the show in front of him and looked at her, leaning down so she could speak in his ear. His eyes widened at the news, and he clapped gently and sighed in relief. He quickly walked up behind Michael. “If I can just,” he pushed a hand forward in the air as if nudging someone aside, “butt in here for a second, I have some good news.”

Michael turned their head, not still not fully looking at him. “What?”

“One of the Faithful spotted Aziraphale _and_ Jahaziel. On earth.”

The supernatural pressure on Camael’s chest lifted, and he slumped forward slightly. His red eyes flashed brighter at the back of Michael’s head as they turned fully to Gabriel. “Why is that any sort of good news to us?” they practically gritted out. “Neither of them are in _Hell_ where we need them.”

“Now just,” he held up both hands placatingly. “Hear me out. Okay? I’ve just gotten word that they’re driving to a place called Tadfield, which I believe,” he squinted and tried to remember the details, “is the location of the satanic convent where the Antichrist was--” He held up two fingers, flipping his hand over with a little ‘fwip’ sound. “--swapped at. If Beelzebub’s old information is correct.”

Michael sneered and brushed past him. “And exactly what good does that do us? Your agents have already been through that place and found nothing.”

“That’s true, they didn’t,” he said, jogging lightly to get in front of Michael to stop them before they left the war room. He succeeded, much to Michael’s dismay. Though they let him continue, hands moving to slender hips as they listened for a moment before moving back to their wrist again. “But I’ve also been looking into Jahaziel’s reports on the Antichrist. He kept reporting as if he was living with the Ambassador’s family. And our contacts have also reported that Aziraphale was at the same house. And guess what?” He grinned. “One of the Pious was on the Ambassador’s staff! They only ever had a creepy little lady with white blonde hair in that house. And she was the false Antichrist’s nanny! No one that ever even looked like Jahaziel was there!”

“The _point,_ Gabriel!” they snapped, finally losing a little of their temper and volume control. They squeezed their wrist so tight that their sleeve’s wrinkles would take more than a miracle to straighten.

Involuntarily jolting at the tone along with everyone else in the room, Gabriel recovered at lightspeed. He fixed Michael with a pointed look. “So where has Jahaziel really been reporting from all this time? The information he fed us doesn’t match Aziraphale’s _at all._ And some of the boy’s activities sounded like they were in a country setting. So that got me thinking.” He pointed to the earth section of the battle table. “What if he’s been with the real Antichrist this entire time?”

Michael’s ire faded somewhat, the oppressive air pressure in the room lifting. Gabriel blinked and pressed under his ear, too proper to yawn or let his eyes water from the shift. “Sounds like a hell of a lot of conjecture, archangel,” Michael said, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why haven’t you mentioned any of this before?”

Gabriel raised a finger. “An excellent question. See - it’s only a theory at this point. But I mean… Once we hit Hell where it hurts, they’re bound to get a little cataclysmic in reply.” He leveled them with a look, nodding as if agreeing with himself. Unable to do much more than nod themself, Michael stayed silent. “They’re _Hell!_ You think they’re going to play _fair?_ We don’t even play fair. And we’re the _good guys._ ” Gabriel held his hands together, mocking prayer. “Anyway, I didn’t think it important to mention right away. I was under the impression that this beacon would have gone off. And once Hell retaliated… Wouldn’t all that Antichrist business just kinda seem like… A dessert to the main course?” He quirked a brow, grinning that showman’s smile at them. He wasn’t going to mention that he was getting a little impatient. More than anything, he just wanted to skip right over all the messy Antichrist business and get right to their victory. And explaining how he’d dilly-dallied in this minor revelation was not a good use of company time in his eyes. “And theory or not, it sounds like a _lead_ to me. Best one we’ve got, and I vote for at least keeping an eye on them. Don’t you? And even if it isn’t a lead, _I_ have a plan B. Now that we’ve found Aziraphale again, after all.”

The tightness in Michael’s brow lessened and they looked up at him in a different way. “You’d better hope you’re right then. Keep talking.”

“Right!” Gabriel clapped his hands once, turning towards the map he’d pointed to. With a wave of his hand, it turned into a map of Great Britain, slowly zooming in near the Tadfield area. “So the beacon is set off by Aziraphale’s anger, right? Obviously Jahaziel messed that one up.” Annoyance seeped into his tone a little and he drew in a breath through his nose. “Leave it to him to be the only angel to _Fall_ wrong. ” He held out his hands now. “Anyway. Clearly, that didn’t work. No one here’s to blame. Aziraphale just isn’t angry at him. Some bad luck we have for him keeping _Temperance_ as a Virtue, huh?" Features turned puzzled for a moment before a small, thoughtful frown overtook them. "Or would that more fall to Patience? Hmm. Anyway! He's just not angry. And he's..." He sucked his teeth a little, grimacing thoughtfully. "Not angry enough at Heaven either to be set off. So…" He turned back to Michael as well as an interested Camael who had approached the table. And he grinned. "We get drastic.”


	25. Chapter 25

After Aziraphale and Jahaziel appeared in the Observatory parking lot once more, the former angel had to take a moment to look up at the ruins of his old home. Aziraphale squeezed his shoulder in sympathy, but they didn’t really have time to dwell on it. Not to mention, this place had become downright spooky. Usually Aziraphale was all in favor of such places, but there seemed to be an echo of the dead angel’s screams still clinging to every nook and cranny amongst the rubble. It was truly unsettling. He would have probably relished in such a feeling if he was any sort of real, respectable demon.

As for transportation, they decided on Jahaziel’s car, just in case Hell was monitoring everywhere they teleported. To return home was unsuspicious, but Aziraphale had a _very bad feeling_ that Megiddo was going to happen soon with the Dowlings, if it hadn’t already. That lot fell to Hastur, and while he was single minded, he wasn’t stupid. He’d figure out Aziraphale’s reports were bogus in no time, and they’d be coming for him. 

But they ran into another snag. It was almost as if Jahaziel’s Volkswagen didn’t recognize him. It wouldn’t unlock its doors easily, wouldn’t start, and just plain old refused to cooperate. Jahaziel fretted over that as well, saddened too many times in such a short time for the longer tenured demon’s liking. They tried using Aziraphale to approach the car too, but it remained steadfastly silent, as if turning its nose up at them both for getting into this mess.

Aziraphale had to wait fifteen full minutes of Jahaziel circling the car, whispering to it, and running his hands over the chassis. The four eyed demon took out his black and silver filigree pocket watch, trying not to make a point of doing so but actually definitely trying to make a point of doing so. Hell could be on them at any second, not to mention Heaven, which he was at least thankful couldn’t track them anymore. But they were sure to be looking for their malfunctioning beacon too. It felt... very odd to be such a focus of the Great Plan. To be Most Wanted by both celestial realms. He’d never had a really big role to play, aside from delivering Adam all those years ago. He was used to being a small, silent part. A little cog at the bottom. But small cogs in a larger machine were still cogs. If they jammed things up, the rest could easily screech to a halt. The thought made him somewhat nervous, even _more_ nervous than he was already, and he sent a soft, melancholy sigh his fallen angel’s way. The sooner they got to Adam again, the better their chance was at subverting the rest of the End.

Jahaziel finally pried a door open after all but _lying_ on the roof of the car, and they both got in. Jahaziel went to try starting it again, but the car had no keyhole. He stared at the dashboard. “Oh you’ve got to be _joking!_ ” he hissed through clenched teeth. This was _such a waste of time!_ They should have been halfway to Adam by now! The poor thing was probably going through all sorts of turmoil. And who knew how much of it his friends could help with? None of it, really. No one deserved to deal with the kind of thing Adam was going through, even peripherally.

“Should we just steal another car?” Aziraphale suggested quietly. 

“No, of course we shouldn’t steal a--” Jahaziel paused, looking at his hands for a few seconds. “Oh...” Demon now. That was an acceptable course of action available to him. He grimaced. “Still don’t like that idea though.” He rested his forehead on the backs of his knuckles clinging to the steering wheel, and groaned pitifully. “I don’t know how many times you want me to tell you I’m sorry, Darling. It’s not like I _bloody died!_ ” Metal somewhere in the car creaked in protest, and he scoffed with a light elbow to the door. “Oh _bugger that!_ I’m perfectly allowed to swear now!”

“Well whether or not your car cooperates, we have to pop off to Tadfield post-haste,” Aziraphale reminded, his voice growing a little faster. (He was far beyond numb to Jahaziel’s car-talk by now.) “I’ve heard the weather patterns are growing worse in certain parts of the world. Snowing in Abu-Dhabi, acid rain in Anchorage, and I do recall hearing there was a typhoon of fish in Sydney.” He looked out of his passenger window at some clean up crew’s cars. “We really should go about getting another car. There’s no time.” He opened the door, but it slammed in his face, causing him to be pushed back and his glasses to smash into his face. “Oh _please!_ ” he exclaimed in surprise and pain. 

Almost as if growling out a reluctant “FINE!”, the bug started with an engine rev and puttered readily. Jahaziel jolted back from the wheel, staring at the dash before breaking out into a grin, hands balled into fists and lifted victoriously. “ _Yes!_ ” He patted the gear shift. “Jealous old girl, I knew you’d come through!”

Aziraphale took off his now bent shades and groaned. “Oh in the name of--!” He snapped the glasses away to properly rub at the aching bridge of his nose, and Jahaziel backed up the car and drove out of the lot. “It never used to be this petulant.” He glared at the gauges in front of Jahaziel, and he could swear he felt the entire car radiate strong dislike back at him. He’d never before felt the car’s “sentience” that Jahaziel so clearly could, and the demon’s face went slack with realization. “I would wager that it blames me for being a bad influence on you.”

Jahaziel sped out of Greenwich Park. “Well she isn’t entirely wrong, considering everything,” he chuckled wryly, not really meaning it. As they crested a small hill, he leaned forward to look up at the sky. Something that looked like a deep grey, evil looking shelf cloud was almost fully over central London. His eyes widened, feeling something… _awful_ coming from it. He cranked down the window a tad and flicked his tongue out to smell the air. “ _Azzy._ ”

The other demon had felt it before him, having gone stock still. “I know. I sense it too.”

The clouds, very much like a tornadic storm Adam had seen on weather chasing programs, settled into place over the metropolis just as Jahaziel crossed the Tower Bridge. Everything went deathly still, and a demonic array Aziraphale hadn’t even realized was there started interconnecting itself.

All over London and the surrounding areas, every bookshop or study cafe seized control of its current patrons and employees. A young student that was reading some Edgar Allen Poe in a musty aisle suddenly dropped their book. Their gaze went unfocused, and their hands fell to their sides. The cashier and a couple other patrons in the cafe did the same. “ _Vacate, et videte nihil. Ave satanas,_ ” they all droned in Latin as one. The command spread to the rest of the establishments in synchronization.

Just after Jahaziel sped past Blackfriars and Aziraphale’s church, the both of them heard the infernal chanting. A small store down the road from them glowed in a sphere of faint blue, sending tangled tendrils of electric cyan into the sky to join others. Around the shop, people that had been walking by were suddenly still, comatose and blind on their feet. Their voices joined the chant, making its influence stronger. Cars had crashed inside as well, but not even the combustion in their engines could find enough energy to burn.

Jahaziel stared for a moment, mouth slightly agape. “What... is that?”

All of Aziraphale’s eyes widened as he recognized the strands of power all too well. He scrunched his face up with a dismayed groan. “Ohhh _fuck!_ ”

Jahaziel rose a surprised eyebrow at him over his new, deep red glasses. Demon or not, Aziraphale hardly ever swore most of the time Jahaziel had known him. “ _What?!_ ” he demanded, new panic in his voice.

“Don’t get caught in it!” warned Aziraphale, suddenly sitting forward and grabbing the dash. “Take the side roads!”

Jahaziel followed the order without further question, throwing the bug into a sharp turn away from the steadily growing sphere of influence. Other humans started realizing what was happening and ran away from the growing power. They didn’t last long, the light spreading faster than they were able to run.

“Oh _why_ did I have to sign on so many of them!” Aziraphale lamented through a moan as they dodged another wall of blue light coming down an alley. 

“What the hell is it?!” shouted Jahaziel as they ripped onto the main street again by Russell Square Station. “What are they?!”

“They’re like sandtraps. Get caught in one, and you can’t see, can’t move, and can’t help but contribute your own spirit to the spell there.” 

Jahaziel’s face contorted. “Wait, _what?_ Does it affect more than just humans?”

“ _Yes,_ unfortunately.” Aziraphale sat back in his seat, rubbing both hands over his face. He exclaimed loudly. “How could I have been so thoughtless?!”

“Wh--? But wait, how do you know this?”

“The shops -- all those bookshops and study cafes I invested in. I had to inscribe,” his eyes flicked to Jahaziel, dreading what was coming, “er, something of a-a uh… my own... demonic sigil... in every single one. They must be reacting to Adam’s growing power...”

Jahaziel’s face went slack as he drove. He slowly looked over at Aziraphale, who could see that his eyes had gone fully snake-like behind the lenses. Even angels had to be very careful placing or giving up their sigils. Seriously weird magic could happen if they were just lying about for anyone or anything to interact with. The spot just between his eyes tingled almost as an afterthought. “You _what?_ ”

“Hell wouldn’t have approved the outflow of currency miracles if I hadn’t!” Aziraphale defended helplessly. 

“What, your library in the church wasn’t good enough?” asked Jahaziel, genuinely asking but also flabbergasted that this freaky magic everywhere was Aziraphale’s fault. As such, it may have come off a little unintentionally dickish. “Why did you have to use your _own_ sigil, Aziraphale?!”

“I couldn’t use anything else! Had to approve it with Beelzebub! Creating a great array in honor of some old pagan deity or--or something!” Aziraphale’s turn to get a little dickish. “Those poor businesses have been failing since your damned internet came out!”

“You’re blaming _me_ for the _internet?_ So is this somehow my fault then?!” He gestured to a sphere of light as they passed by at 145 kph. “I feel like I should be flattered, all things considered.”

“No! No, of course it isn’t. It’s just that _one of us_ wanted a way to communicate better with their human pals _Vinton and Bob_ across the pond, because _instant faxes_ were ‘too slow’!” He used air-quotes for emphasis just because he knew they irritated Jahaziel, his nastier side coming out in such high stress.

Jahaziel’s jaw dropped. “Oh! Oh ho ho, NO! No no no, you _leave the boys out of_ \--”

“ **OI!** Would you two _shut the fuck up?!_ ” shouted an irritated, familiar cockney voice behind them.

Both demons jolted and looked back to see Hastur and Ligur crammed into the back seat amongst Jahaziel’s mess of charts and other paraphernalia. Aziraphale’s stomach practically dropped out of the car. _No. Not now, of all times._ “O-oh. Duke Hastur.”

“Hello _bright eyes,_ ” sneered Hastur, his mouth tiny with barely contained rage. He glanced at a passing light wall. “Been busier than I gave you credit for.” His black eyes flicked over to Jahaziel, who had turned back to driving. “Don’t believe I’ve had the displeasure of meeting you yet, though. I imagine not many in Hell have. Newest arrival and all.”

The serpentine demon’s little hairs stood on end under the duke’s gaze. Aziraphale had been right all this time. Just being this close to Hastur’s disgusting presence was truly awful. “Yup,” he began weakly, sinking into the driver’s seat, “dove right into my work.”

Clearly not interested in their preamble, Hastur ignored them. “Had you two lovebirds not been getting so upset, I don’t think we would have found you in time.” 

“Satan-damned howler monkeys,” muttered Ligur, his eyes going red. “Don’t know how you two haven’t bloody killed each other yet.”

“Indeed. And according to our sources, you two have been in cahoots for _countless years_ , even before Mr. Green here fell yesterday.” A grimy hand patted Jahaziel’s shoulder, causing the redhead to shiver and nearly gag. Oh… He did _not_ like that.

Aziraphale repressed a shudder. Hastur was practically licking his lips with how much he was enjoying this. “Mutual benefit for both our sides.” Aziraphale nodded with his words assuringly. “Same way you probably got your information on us. From Heaven I take--”

The sound of a switchblade flicking out by Aziraphale’s left ear and the cold press of steel to his throat made him freeze. “You know... I wouldn’t lie to me again,” said Hastur in a sing-song voice. He’d leaned forward and spoke very close to Aziraphale’s right ear. “And I wouldn’t try to run either. Don’t want to besmirch your squeaky clean discoporation record. Or his.” He thumbed to Jahaziel. A maggot fell on Aziraphale’s shoulder, and he squeezed all his eyes shut in abhorrence. “You’ve already made a fool of me with the wrong Antichrist that you’ve been lying to us about for over a _decade._ ” The hellish sharp steel pressed closer to his skin, breaking it and making him gasp softly. Blood Aziraphale had barely spilt beaded at the cut. “I’d love nothing more than for you to give me a reason to carve you open like a sacrifice to our master.”

Unholy rage silently exploded out of Jahaziel’s side of the car. “You will _sit back and leave him alone,_ ” Jahaziel warned, dangerously quiet.

Aziraphale held out a hand placatingly, not wanting to further stir Hastur’s wrath. 

Hastur briefly turned to look at him. “Oh I highly doubt I will, Crawler.”

“It’s _Crawly,_ ” grit out Jahaziel. He may have hated the name, but it was still the one he was given. And he’d be damned twice over if he heard his real name being uttered by someone so vile.

Ligur smirked with a grunt. “Least the newbie sounds like one of us already.” He chuckled. “Not gonna look good on your record though, associating with a traitor.”

Aziraphale could hear Hastur’s gross mouth wetly form a smile next to his face. “ _Traitor._ Don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of that word.”

They almost got caught in another array of blue light. Jahaziel and Aziraphale shared a pointed look. They never should have started bickering in the first place. It always happened when they didn’t trust each other, even for a short moment. They’d gotten themselves into this. Now they had to find a way out.

“Pull over,” growled Hastur. “The Dark Council is waiting.”

Aziraphale looked out the windshield as Hastur listed off Aziraphale’s crimes against Hell and seemed to take way too much joy in it. Jahaziel took his time slowing down, but he did, pulling up to the opposite side of the street. Another wall of light was some distance behind them now, and people shrieked as they sprinted by the car. Ligur slithered out first, having miracled the vehicle to be a four-door instead of a coup and opening Jahaziel’s door. “You too, slick. C’mon. Out.”

Without looking, Jahaziel squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. _Trust me,_ he tried to send telepathically to his dearest. 

Hastur kicked his own door open. “I can’t wait to see what they have in store for you,” the duke said with an excited giggle in his voice.

Steeling himself, Aziraphale opened his own door and stepped out. He took the squeeze to his hand as just a pale reassurance that he wasn’t alone. Which was comforting, but not by much. He would have loved nothing more than to burn his bridge with Hastur and delight in the flame as he did so. But the simple truth was that even if he did get through a Dark Council judgment session without being reduced to his barest demonic essence, he still had to work with these people in the future. If there was a future. That aspect was looking grimmer by the second.

It occurred to Aziraphale that, if these two were any sort of smarter, Hastur and Ligur could have used Jahaziel and Aziraphale to lead them to the real Antichrist. But they were far too preoccupied with taking the credit for bringing them in - much to the favor of Adam.

Outside was total chaos. Screams, chanting, and car crashes filled the air. It certainly felt like the end of the world now. Hastur’s arm phased through the metal of the car like a ghost, not taking his hand away from Aziraphale’s neck for a moment. They walked over to the curb next to Jahaziel and Ligur. The lesser demon had a hand wrapped around Jahaziel’s arm, and they were both lit by the blue light behind Aziraphale and Hastur.

“Take a good look around,” said Hastur slowly, clearly relishing every second of this. “This is the last you’ll both see of your beloved little world.”

“Least you can go out proud knowing you did cause so much discord, Azrikam. Will probably make your sentence not so bad,” supplied Ligur.

Hastur glared at him. “Did you _really_ just point out the bright side?”

Jahaziel caught Aziraphale’s eye, and he pointedly tilted his head, raising his eyebrows at something behind the other demon.

Ligur’s nasty grin fell, and he looked between the two of them. “What? It’s more chaos than I’ve ever caused.”

Aziraphale frowned at Jahaziel, eyes darting to the side but not daring to move his head. _What?_ he mouthed.

“They’re meant to be _miserable_ right now. Are you kidding me?” Hastur’s hand shook over Aziraphale’s neck, causing another scratch. “Why are you ruining this for me?!”

Jahaziel removed his glasses with his free hand, blue light reflecting in his eyes like an animal’s. _Sigil,_ he mouthed, pointing with his glasses.

“I--I’m not. I wouldn’t!” Ligur said, holding up a hand in resignation. “I didn’t mean it, your Vilen--” Ligur paused, looking up at the sight behind Hastur and Aziraphale. “Uhh… sir?”

The light got brighter as Jahaziel put his glasses back on. Aziraphale felt the crackle of power so akin to his own getting closer. No more humans ran by. The air was completely still.

“Oh I don’t know _why_ I promoted you anymore, you stupid, thoughtless, awful excuse of a--”

In a second flat, all four demons were enveloped in a blinding light. Aziraphale’s normal set of eyes had gone sightless, but his lower set widened, still able to see somewhat. He fought against the similar power, grimacing at the effort. His mind was quickly slipping. The poking at his neck stopped as Hastur’s arms dropped. The switchblade fell in slow motion to the ground. He, Ligur, and Jahaziel had joined the chanting, the sphere itself tripling in speed with the added power of the three of them. “ _Vacate, et videte nihil. Ave satanas,_ ” they all repeated simultaneously.

It took a massive amount of effort, but Aziraphale managed to take a step away from Hastur. It was like moving through molasses, but there was no time to half-ass this. Taking a deep breath, he forced his hands up to his chest, straining with almost everything he had in him to weave the complex spell that canceled his own powers out. It was risky, and it would render him very weak for over an hour. But he had no other choice. He set the last bit of the spell straight in his mind and yelled with the effort to cast it.

He was suddenly able to move normally, the blue light repelled from him like he was oil in water. He walked up to Jahaziel, grabbing him by the shoulders, and the same absence of power flowed into the other demon. Jahaziel gasped, slumping forward and blinking. He grabbed at Aziraphale’s elbows for stability, staring at him in disbelief.

Aziraphale smirked weakly. “You probably planned to just get us all stuck in there and not be taken to Hell until the End. Right?”

Mouth opening and closing a couple times, Jahaziel let out a disbelieving laugh. “You know me too well.” He looked around them and at the two frozen demons. “Though I will gladly accept this turn of events, too.”

He slid a hand down to Jahaziel’s. “Come. Let’s get out of here before Hastur figures a way out of this.”

They both crawled back in the bug, not breaking their physical contact for a moment. The absence of power extended to the car with the last of Aziraphale’s concentration, and they were able to drive the rest of the way out of London. It took passing the M25 in order to reach the end of the power net, and Aziraphale let out a massive breath, falling slack in his seat. In the rearview mirror, he saw the huge mess of tendrils blanketing the city. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a glowing version of the spider nests in Mirkwood.

Jahaziel still didn’t let go. “That… was way too close.”

Rolling his head to look at him, Aziraphale gave him a silent look that plainly said “no, you think?” He was so absolutely spent that he had no real room anymore for manners at the moment.

Jahaziel chuckled quietly, squeezing his hand. His smile fell. “I’m really glad the last conversation we have isn’t going to be an argument.”

“I do say there’s still time for that.”

Jahaziel laughed and brought Aziraphale’s hand up to kiss the back of it. “Smartarse.” They drove in silence for a while, the car going an easy 195 kph down the M40. This time, for the _first_ time, Jahaziel spoke first. “Are you really still miffed over Vinton and Bob? After all this time?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes. I will stand by the fact that they are responsible for killing my favorite pastime until the end of the earth.” Aziraphale’s eyes grew heavy. All he wanted to do was fall asleep. And he did, it being the only way to replenish his magic outside a trip to Hell, which wasn’t happening again any time soon. He was going to need every ounce of his power for what was about to come.

Jahaziel let the other demon sleep, and he found himself stealing looks at him several times. Despite having memorized every curve of his face long ago, he felt like he needed to make double sure he wouldn’t forget. That included the feeling of Aziraphale’s hand in his, which he still did not relinquish. 

He did wish he could talk to Aziraphale right now though. Hash all this final stuff out. If they did subvert Armageddon or Hell triumphed, they’d now have their bosses’ punishments to deal with. Even more so if they did manage to stop the apocalypse. Jahaziel would go from accomplice to traitor as well. If Hell lost the war, they’d have Heaven’s wrath rain down on them for screwing up their advantage so much. Or they’d just be killed in the crossfire. Any way you looked at it, they were pretty much fucked.

What he was most worried about right now was Adam though. If he couldn’t convince him before, how in God’s name was he going to do it this time?

In his nerves, he talked to the otherwise silent car. And the sleeping Aziraphale. 

“I guess I just don’t really know what I was expecting,” he admitted quietly, watching as the scenery whipped by them. “This whole… Falling thing.” He glanced over. His demon was sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat. And really, Jahaziel was glad he could find this respite. They didn’t need to sleep, sure. He assumed Aziraphale was recharging or something, after that feat. So he had to, for this, but. Seeing him so at peace calmed Jahaziel some as well, and he took a deep breath, then sighed. “Was it the same for you?” He squeezed his hand hopefully. As painful and terrible as it was, he selfishly wanted to be able to share in the experience of it. ...Not nearly drowning in a pool of his own tears.

Alas, Aziraphale was fast asleep, and Jahaziel could not afford to be overcome by that feeling again. Not right now. They had far more important things to tend to presently.


	26. Chapter 26

“Adam!” Pepper snapped in the boy’s face, jolting him out of his stupor. He looked at her with a groan, batting her hand away.

“I’m sorry, Pepper. This is hard. I’ve stayed awake super late before, but never for longer than a morning.” He glanced towards his bedroom door. “And you have to keep it down. You’re not supposed to be here. I haven’t done my homework yet.”

Pepper rolled her eyes but was still sympathetic. “It’s only a couple more days, don’t be a baby. My mum does night shifts all the time. How are you feeling otherwise?”

Adam shrugged, rubbing his eyes and glancing over at Brian and Wensleydale playing with some of his toys quietly in the corner. _Days._ Two more nights and some hours of the last day probably. It wasn’t like he knew exactly when he was “supposed” to end the world. Waiting that much longer to go to sleep or do anything though seemed nigh on an eternity. 

Dog whined softly, resting his head on Adam’s leg and looking up at him. Adam mentally agreed. This sucked. He _hated_ this. He didn’t want to worry his friends anymore. But he supposed that was half the point of all this. He didn’t want to, but he was. Therefore it was… helping? Oh his head pounded too much to bother. It helped. That’s all that mattered. He knew deep down he couldn’t make it the rest of the time, but he had to try for them, if not for the whole world. The boy scratched under his dog’s chin. “I’m having trouble not thinking of anything I might want. I keep almost thinking I want to sleep, and then I get worried thinking that if I make myself fall asleep I might not wake up again, and who knows what would happen then?” He looked at all his friends. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you guys. Or my parents. Or Dog, or Nanny, or Nanny’s--” He fell short with words. “I think they’re married. They act like mum and dad do sometimes.” Pepper raised a brow, and Adam elaborated. “I heard them arguing after I went inside when they told me about this. It happens sometimes when I get overwhelmed.”

“Well, look.” She turned to her bag, pulling out a sketchbook and some coloured pencils. “Why don’t you just draw things instead? My mum tells me creativity is the best outlet for any kind of stress. She builds miniatures, but drawing helps me better.” She shrugged. “Draw what you want instead of thinking about it. Can’t hurt.”

Adam stared at the pencils and book for a long moment, zoning back in and grabbing them. Dog jostled off his lap with a whine as the child began scribbling furiously - filling a page with anxious drawings that overlapped one another, again and again and again. It wasn’t long before he wasn’t even paying attention to what he was drawing, and Pepper grew instantly alert as the harmless doodles upon doodles turned into some of the strange sigils she’d seen drawn with the stick in the dirt. When she tried to grab his hand to make him stop, Dog growled at her, his eyes glowing again.

“Guys…” Pepper’s voice warned, “I might need some help here.”

Brian and Wensleydale looked up from the toys, seeing Pepper look frightened for the first time in… well, ever. They stood up slowly, Brian grabbing a blanket off the foot of the bed. A glance exchanged between the three of them before a flurry of motion - Brian threw the blanket over Dog, who immediately began making a truly unholy racket. Pepper and Wensleydale grabbed one each of Adam’s arms, hauling him off the bed as he kicked and screamed. Wensleydale clamped a hand over his mouth, and despite holding a _very_ squirmy Dog, Brian managed to get the bedroom door open. They might have counted it as a miracle that his parents hadn’t come out to see what was going on - and it very well may have been. Adam had simply not wanted them to not know anything about this since day one. It was that wish that had kept them deep in pleasant slumber, neither of them the wiser.

The three of them managed to get them as far as the backyard before Adam broke free, and Dog bit Brian through the blanket. Adam stumbled a few paces, kicking a ball through the line of bushes at the back and whirling around to face them all. “I told you I didn’t want to hurt you!” It was only then that they noticed it was oddly _dark_ for the time of day it was, clouds rolling through the sky so quickly they looked like a sped-up video. 

“And you’re still not going to, are you Adam?” Pepper dared, moving in front of the other two boys, putting herself between Dog, Adam, and their other friends. “You wouldn’t hurt your friends!”

“Of course not!” He was shouting more now, over the sound of howling wind and old, creaking trees. He was dizzy with sleep deprivation, touched more by the latent evil within him in his weakness. “But I can’t stop thinking of bad things!” Tears streaked his face now, the boy swaying where he stood. “Every time I try and think of nothing, or something good, I just think about how tired I am and how bad things will happen if I let myself sleep or think of anything else.” 

“We’re so close, Adam!” Brian cried, holding his bitten arm close to his chest as Pepper and Wensleydale drew closer to him in their own fear, “please, I’m scared!”

“I don’t want to be bad,” Adam sobbed, sinking to his knees as Dog ran in circles around him, growling up a storm. “But it’s impossible… I’m supposed to be a bad person. Maybe that’s the point. It doesn’t matter how good I try to be, I’m always going to be _bad.”_

“That’s not true, Adam!” Jahaziel’s voice rang out as the pair of demons dashed across the yard, and the boy looked up to see his nanny and a newly fresh Aziraphale running towards him. Jahaziel skidded down onto his knees on the grass before him, grabbing his shoulders. “Adam, that’s not true.” 

“He’s right,” Aziraphale assured, joining Jahaziel on the ground, hand on the boy’s knee. The rest of the Them gathered closer behind them, wary but hopeful. “Listen to him. Listen to what he has to say.” 

“Y-you’re different,” Adam murmured, looking into Jahaziel’s eyes. The wind around them died a bit, as did Dog’s growling, but the darkened clouds continued to roll through. Adam sniffled quietly. “You’re… you’re different now.” He looked at Aziraphale then back to his nanny. “You’re like him.”

Jahaziel winced, as did Aziraphale, but he nodded. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, squeezing his shoulders again. “Yes Adam, that’s right. We’re - I’m--” Aziraphale’s free hand moved to his knee, gripping it gently. “I’m a demon now, too.”

The boy’s face turned to confusion, Dog halting to stare at the other three children attempting to flee. “Why? You were an angel. And you were a good angel.”

Jahaziel grimaced at that, drawing breath through his teeth. “Yeah… No. I… I really wasn’t…”

“But you were.” Adam took one of his nanny’s hands off his shoulder to hold it, gripping it tightly in both of his. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was comfort. It was either at this point. “You were a great angel. A great nanny and a great person. And you--” He looked to Aziraphale, “you’re supposed to be a demon. But even in the first few minutes I knew you, you were really nice, too.”

Aziraphale did not comment on Adam's choice of words, though he very much wanted to. Now wasn't the time. “Yes. Well. We have both done bad things, Adam.” He looked to Jahaziel for a moment, brows raised hopefully. But they fell as they looked back to the boy. “We... questioned our superiors. We talked back.”

Again, Adam only looked confused. “So you acted like children. And you got punished for it.”

The celestial pair blinked, sharing a look that made them both look like fish out of water. 

“But that shouldn’t matter… You were both really good. Even you, Mister Aziraphale. You were nice to me. And nice to nanny. Nanny raised me to know the difference between right and wrong, and I know I learned a lot. ...I still talk back sometimes. And I get into trouble. But…” He squeezed Jahaziel’s hand, feeling another wave of _whatever_ it was throwing his emotions around as he just felt so sorry for the pair of them and himself. “It’s not fair.”

“No… Adam. It really isn’t. But it doesn’t - it’s neither here nor there.” Jahaziel squeezed Adam’s hand back, other hand moving to his cheek like it had so many times when he was little. “We need you to calm down. I know you’re tired. But this…” He looked around them. The dark clouds, the low, rumbling cacophony from the neighboring cities. He looked back at the other children who were petrified of Dog. “This can’t happen. I know you don’t want this. No one does. You’re the only one that can stop it.” 

Aziraphale could clearly see now that this sort of responsibility was the cruelest form of needless punishment for a child. It was so befitting of Satan’s nature to do something like this to his own kin that it made him physically ill. Jahaziel had thought very much the same too, but for _far_ longer. “You are the only person in the world that is capable of preventing all this chaos.”

“I’ve tried!” Adam wailed, worked up again. “I can’t stop it! I’ve done all this. And I scared my friends!” Crying again now, he began wiping his eyes. Jahaziel released his hand, worried gaze on Aziraphale. The boy was simply too tired though, and the waterworks ended after only a few moments. “I just… I don’t understand one thing.”

“Whatever questions you have, Adam, we will do our best to answer them.” And Jahaziel nodded in agreement to Aziraphale’s words.

“You both still want to stop this.” Puffy red eyes looked between them. “Why?”

Once again, the demons shared a look. “I… I don’t understand the question.” Jahaziel admitted.

“Both of you. Both of you have every reason and excuse to be bad. Be evil. You have no reason to be nice or care about earth or _me_ anymore. You can go off and cause all the chaos and badness you want with the perfect excuse.” The boy hunched a bit more as he explained, seemingly reticent to bring this information to light. As if it would suddenly dawn on the two of them that, ‘Oh, yeah, we can be terrible now’. He couldn't bear that. “I just don’t understand why you aren’t. Technically, we’re on the same side now. Isn’t the biggest ‘bugger off’ to those that wronged you destroying them?”

Aziraphale thought on that. Jahaziel thought on that. But they both ended up shaking their heads, and it was Aziraphale that spoke up first in reply. “Because… we don’t want to.”

“We may be cut from the same cloth now, Adam. But we’ve always stuck with the third option. We’re on our own side.” Through Jahaziel’s comment, he took up one of Aziraphale’s hands, the other finding one of Adam’s. “ _You_ can be on our side, too. It doesn’t matter who owns our souls now or anything like that. There’s _always_ an option to do what you think is right. No matter what you may think you’re destined for.” In spite of everything, he smiled. “Someone very, very wise taught me that a long time ago.”

Aziraphale squeezed the hand in his, grabbing Adam’s other hand, not missing the subtle appreciation Jahaziel had just let out with those words. The three of them sat like that, in a circle, the world becoming much smaller in those moments. “The biggest thing you can do to those that wronged you is to be a good person,” Aziraphale insisted. “And show that what they did to you doesn’t matter.” He looked at Jahaziel then, smiling softly. “You can spend a lifetime regretting it. Or you can spend that time instead doing what makes you happy.”

Adam looked between the two of them, and Jahaziel felt some of the oppressive aura ebb back. “It’s what you do with that time that dictates who you are,” said Adam quietly. As if gears were slowly turning in his head, he nodded. “Neither one of you want this to happen because you care about humans. You care about life. And you care about each other. Just because bad things happened to you… You don’t want to be bad.” The boy closed his eyes, and sighed. “...I don’t want to be bad, either.”

Adam thought on his own words. He knew the Hellish temptations to bring about the end of days was well within his power. But really, after all this, it didn’t seem very appealing. It never had, but the option of ending his own suffering at the cost of everyone else had always been present. Seeing nanny and the other demon completely throw caution to the wind to follow their own path was more inspiring to him than anything else they’d explained. And it made the most sense to him. He didn’t have to do bad things. And he shouldn’t have to worry about them, either. As long as he had his friends, his parents, and Dog, the world was at his fingertips in a much more appealing and fun way. He didn’t want to end humanity, no matter how bad some of the stories he’d heard before could be. Like the two demons that had most certainly been through both figurative and literal hell to stop him, he only wanted to enjoy his life and do what made him _happy._

A little uneasily, Adam stood, the two demons standing with him. The circle broke as Jahaziel released Aziraphale’s hand, and the three of them stood to face the other children and Dog. Slowly but surely, the wind died down. The dark clouds dissipated. As fear melted off the faces of the Them, and Dog quieted his ruckus, Adam let go of the hands he held to run and join them. 

In Japan, a dragon held in cautious captivity simply vanished. Dams that had broken were miraculously filled with carefully-arranged debris, stopping their deadly flow. The rotting sea life all over the roofs and streets of Sydney left, any smell of them gone. Aziraphale’s sigil array faded away and would go down in history as one of the biggest mass hallucination conspiracies of all time. Acid damage, car wrecks, fires, and explosions played in reverse, and every odd thing and creature that appeared that short week faded away, just as they never were before.

“I think we did it,” Jahaziel murmured, stepping closer to Aziraphale, who nodded.

“I do believe you’re right.” Aziraphale looked around them. Birds were coming out of their hiding places, bringing tentative song with them. The sun peeked around much more normal-looking clouds. “Do you feel anything from him?” 

Jahaziel shook his head. “Nope. I think he checked his evil at the door.” He watched the children hug and cry together, feeling a relieved and somewhat proud smile come to his face. “Shed what gave him that capability and made himself fully human.”

“Neither Heaven nor Hell have a place here now.” Aziraphale still looked around a bit as he spoke. “Shouldn’t give them a reason to pop in.”

“Right.” 

Before they left though, Jahaziel knelt down to touch Adam’s back, bringing the boy’s attention to him once more. Adam wiped tears from his face as Dog jumped up to lick the one’s he missed on his chin.

“Before you toddle off to bed, dear, be sure to tell your parents there’s,” he wrinkled his nose with an impish smile, “a going-away present from Nanny Haha somewhere in her cottage.”

Adam smirked, tiredness clear in the bags under his eyes. He stood up from the embrace of his friends and hugged Jahaziel tight around his shoulders. “I will. You’re coming back though. Christmas isn’t gonna be the same if you don’t.” He pulled back to smile sheepishly. “Plus you can make me any present I ask for.”

Jahaziel chuckled and dipped his head down before standing. “Too right you are.” He grabbed the end of his nose briefly. Perhaps now, there might just be a chance of him coming back here to do just that. “See you soon.”

Taking that as their cue to part, the children went back to the house, and the two demons headed back across the yard and towards the beetle. Jahaziel heard the sound of the back door opening, and a very excited ‘mum!’ as he slid into the driver’s seat. Aziraphale joined him in the passenger’s side not long after, sighing.

They were a few miles down the road when Jahaziel spoke. “...Now what?” 

Aziraphale didn’t like how quiet things were. Hastur and Ligur should have been on them in a snap second, now that his sigils were most likely down. He didn’t feel their far reaching influence at any rate. “It’s certainly not over. Not yet. If it’s minutes from now or three days,” he leaned forward to look up at the clearing sky, “they’ll be here.”


	27. Chapter 27

Gabriel sat back in his office chair from the earth activity screen. One of his messengers stood next to him, awaiting any orders he may need to give her. After some bandying about and a chunk of paperwork, he’d finally fanagled the screen out of Security to get the live feed on the two demons. The soul they’d been using for the live feed dissipated as Crowley and Aziraphale drove away, spiritual power depleted. 

The archangel’s mouth thinned, and he let out a slow sigh. He laced his fingers together, elbows on the arms of his chair. The entire exchange between the two and the Antichrist gave him all the answers he needed. All his theories were confirmed, and the Plan was entirely derailed because of these two complete nimrods. _Great. Just fantastic._

He didn’t even need to make a gesture. A twitch of his upper lip, and the three thousand year old cocobolo desk in front of him shredded itself apart into atoms in a brief crackling, crunching sound. Not even a splinter remained, the debris microscopic. His lackey next to him lost her perfect posture, stepping away in shock from the now absent desk.

Working with Hell again to possibly fix the child was out of the picture. They had less idea of what was going on, and he wasn’t about to waste a call to them to try getting them up to speed and sort out the Antichrist. The end of the earth wasn’t a prerequisite for Heaven and Hell’s final battle anyway. It was just to diminish the human casualties caused by either side. Have a neutral party cause all the chaos for humans on equally neutral ground, and the division of souls would remain equal. That was always the plan.

As he was coming to learn over the past few days though, plans changed. You could set up everything you wanted, put all the pieces in place exactly the way they were supposed to be, but it could all still fall apart.

No, let Hell panic in the dark. They’d be waiting on Heaven to be fair and tell them what was happening with Armaggeddon before the war started. They always had counted on that, thinking they could be underhanded in any way they wanted.

He could still use this to his advantage. In fact, he was starting to see it as a boon the longer he thought about it. And he’d actually get to take two arrogant little shits down a level while he was at it. Which, admittedly, appealed to him more in the moment than Armageddon ever had.

Gabriel stood up slowly, straightening his jacket and cuffs. He looked at the angel. “Inform Michael that we’re going to plan B. And I need the Horsemen called off. I don’t care how you find them or get a hold of them or what you tell them, just do it as quietly as heavenly possible. The Four won’t have enough power to do anything on Friday if there’s no Antichrist anyway.”

“Wait, there’s--there’s no Antichrist anymore?” The other angel hadn’t quite made heads or tails of what was going on on the security monitor. This news of the Antichrist being gone was… very shocking. She had to be sure she heard correctly.

Gabriel paused, turning slightly to look at her with a narrow eyed scowl. “Hello? What did I just say? _Do your job._ ” His calm was slipping, but this was just unacceptable. Everything had been on schedule for so long. Even more untimely delays were the last thing he needed. “I need these people informed _yesterday._ ”

The angel paled, and she teleported out of the room after a meek “right away sir.”

Gabriel looked down at the empty spot where his desk had been in the spotless white office. He waved a hand over the space with a short sigh and roll of his eyes, reorganizing the atoms into their former configuration. Couldn’t just leave those particles floating around willy nilly. He wasn’t an animal, after all.

Michael appeared a couple feet away just as the last of the desk rematerialized. Their hair had been redone into a tight, short french braid for battle. Their flowy garments were gone as well, replaced with an impractical looking ancient Grecian robe. If Michael was anything, Gabriel knew they were a stickler for tradition. And the robe itself radiated protection, smiting; holy spells woven into the thin fabric with gold threads for that extra ‘oomph’. They clearly couldn’t wait to get started. Gabriel didn’t blame them. “I assume the news isn’t good then,” they stated simply, arms folding in front of their chest.

“That,” Gabriel began with a brief point to the ceiling, “is now a matter of perspective. I need you to call in a couple favors. And Uriel. I need them.” A grin spread across his face, purple eyes glinting devilishly. ”They aren’t going to want to miss this.”


	28. Chapter 28

Jahaziel almost didn’t dare to go over a certain speed, fearful that the sound of his engine might seem familiar to some agent of either realm. They made it back to Aziraphale’s church, parking out on the curb and just… sitting. All the chaos of that morning was completely gone, though people still looked a little skittish of bookstores as they walked around. The two demons sat silent in the car for a moment. “Shouldn’t we… I dunno, go somewhere they won’t find us?” the former angel suggested quietly.

Aziraphale raised a brow, about to slide his glasses back on. He’d been repairing them over the time it took them to get here, just to have something to do with his nervous hands. “Well. That didn’t work out too well for you last time, did it?” He slotted his sunglasses back into place.

“No, but.” Jahaziel looked at the front door of the old fashioned building. “Don’t you think we’re making it too easy?”

Aziraphale sighed quietly. “No matter what we do they’re going to find us, Jahaziel. We can’t escape Heaven and Hell both.”

The redhead knew he was right, but mm, still. Hard to take it sitting down. “So you’re… what? Just going to roll over and accept it?”

“I don’t know about you, darling, but I want to at least have a cup of tea in the comfort of my own study with you before we’re wiped off the face of the planet.” He got out of the car onto the sidewalk. “If we don’t try to run, perhaps they’ll go easier on us, hm?” he offered over the hood of the car.

Jahaziel frowned, getting out and rounding the car to walk next to Aziraphale as they mounted the church steps. “That doesn’t sound like the free-spirited demon I once knew.”

Aziraphale paused, his key in the door. 

“What happened to us being on our own side? Dashing them all and running away together?” This dispirited attitude was really beginning to become worrisome to Jahaziel. “Always seemed like something we could hop right to when we needed it.”

Aziraphale glanced at him. “We’re lesser demons, Hazi,” he said with a sad smile. “We may have been able to help the Antichrist, but we don’t have the power to stop them. We’ll always have someone to answer to for all we’ve chosen to do or not do in the end.”

Jahaziel’s gaze fell. He had no comeback for that.

The second they stepped inside and the door closed, it was pitch black. Not even the stained glass windows let any light in, and they both knew something was wrong. Jahaziel smelled decay, and he recognized it from the day prior. “Azzy...” his voice echoed off of far away walls.

There was no response.

He looked around, trying to force his eyes adjust to the darkness. He grasped for the door handle, but he only felt sticky stone. “Aziraphale?” For the first time in memory, he actually could see in the dark, light from seemingly nowhere illuminating the room for his newly infernal eyes and granting him vision. He recognized the place as the Sloth Circle of Hell receiving bay, but all of the lights were off. At the other end he could see Aziraphale now, stock still. He looked far too stiff to be standing that way naturally, and Jahaziel could finally see way too familiar stardust ropes around him. Across his chest was a golden sword held by someone with ridiculously outdated robes and familiar blue eyes.

Jahaziel’s heart dropped into his feet. What the--?!

The edge of something sharp and curved pressed lengthwise across his neck, and he froze. Uriel’s irritating voice tutted off to his left. “Wouldn’t move if I were you.”

Out of the greater darkness to the right, Gabriel and a bunny eared demon came into Jahaziel’s focus. Gabriel was wearing baggies over his shoes, but he looked altogether the same. “Ohh-kay, now that they’re restrained, mind hitting the lights?” he requested, oddly politely, of the bunny demon.

The demon in question glanced back and forth between Aziraphale and Jahaziel. “Wait. You… you told me that these were rogue angels. These guys are on my side. What’s...” He stepped away from Gabriel, holding his hands out in front of him. “What’s really going on here?”

“Oh, big matters of the past, none of your concern. Will totally go over your head, don’t worry about it,” said Gabriel in a flurry. He brought a hand out from behind his back, setting his silver and steel sword tip on the floor in front of him. He rested both hands on the geometric pommel. “Now. The lights? If you don’t mind, that is. Then you can be on your merry way, Abarron.”

Abarron, apparently, gave one more glance between them all. He flicked a hand at the door, turning the lights on, but he didn’t move. “You’re all being awful shady about this. Not sure I can just be allowing angels to cut up our lot whenever you fancy it.”

“Oh.” Gabriel shrugged, smiling. “Oh that’s all right. You don’t have to allow it.”

The demon drew his head back, narrowing his eyes. “I… I don’t?”

Without even a single word, Uriel threw some sort of weapon way too fast for Jahaziel to even identify. The weapon was clearly imbued with holy power, because the second it sliced half through the demon’s neck, he didn’t bleed. He _sizzled._ Abarron couldn’t even scream, clawing at his throat before the sizzling consumed his whole body. He vanished into nothing more than a puff of smoke that was gone like a forgotten memory.

Jahaziel stared at the spot he’d just been, actually feeling like he was about to be violently sick. He couldn’t even move to cover his mouth. He just tried to breathe, chest shaking as he did. He... really hadn’t given Uriel enough credit when he’d been trailed by them all those years. They hadn’t even batted an eye. He couldn’t see Aziraphale’s eyes right now, but he was sure he was just as horrified. To think, all these years, he was so uncomfortably close to someone that could do _that._

“Right then,” said Gabriel with that entrepreneurial grin, breaking the silence. “Finally, we can get down to business.” He gestured between the two of them. “Jahaziel. Or. Crawly, as I believe you’re called now? You had uh.” He waggled his finger like a teacher would. “You had _one_ real job, you know? The only one you never had to fail. Always have to make things interesting for me, even after you’ve been fired, huh?” He looked at Uriel again and nodded once.

The other archangel moved behind Jahaziel, the blade of their halberd never leaving his throat. He then felt the barrel of something press at the small of his back, and cold prickles spread over his body.

“What did you just pull on him?” demanded Aziraphale, his voice firm. Michael’s other hand shot out and covered his mouth. The touch made him wince - be it from their all-around holiness, or just the fact Aziraphale hadn’t been this close to someone from Upstairs other than Jahaziel in quite some time.

Gabriel rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as he spoke. He scrunched his face up in an almost giddy smile. “Squirt gun. Filled with holy water, of course. But we thought it’d be fitting because the two of you really are. Well.” He shrugged, chuckling. “Fucking disobedient children that I simply do not have time for.” As he spoke, his voice got more and more severe, the false mirth leaving him in a snap. He pointed with two fingers at Jahaziel, looking Aziraphale dead in the eye. “Your _lover_ is going to _die permanently_ now because you didn’t do _your_ job, either. So you’ll have that on your conscience instead of spending the last days with him.” He grasped the pommel of his sword tighter. “Did you really think we’d lose our competitive edge just because you two naively thought you could stop this war? Honestly, how much of an _idiot_ do you have to be to think that?” 

“We are just, and we are holy,” Michael added. “You know it. Everyone knows it. We were always meant to triumph over evil. And I was always meant to bring Lucifer down for what he did to us all.”

Aziraphale’s former defeatist attitude faded away like a whip. Jahaziel saw that angry blue glow starting up behind his glasses, and he knew in that second that Heaven was going to get what they wanted.

“But we aren’t without mercy, naturally.” Gabriel gestured between the two of the demons. “You two can say your goodbyes. You have thirty seconds.”

Michael took their hand off Aziraphale’s mouth, and the halberd let up pressure on Jahaziel’s neck. It still remained in front of him, but he could at least talk without fear of nicking his neck on a holy weapon. He took his glasses off first, giving Aziraphale a meaningful, wordless look the other demon could have interpreted any day of the week. ‘Don’t you dare give them what they want,’ it said. ‘ _Don’t you dare,_ or I’ll never forgive you.’

The demon’s eyes remained glowing for a moment more before the blue faded, and his head tilted down. From this distance, Jahaziel could feel unbridled sadness and despair rolling off him like waves. It was so much that it actually made his own eyes water. 

Aziraphale finally let his control over it go, let it bleed into the room for Jahaziel to finally feel. To see the truth he kept hidden. He wanted his angel to know this was it. _This_ was what it was like to be a demon. If it was some kind of solace to show Jahaziel he hadn't been alone in how he had felt earlier, Aziraphale would take it. He squeezed his eyes shut behind his glasses. He wanted nothing more than to let out every ounce of his rage. Rip apart Michael behind him, eviscerate Uriel for everything they’d ever done to Jahaziel, and he so desperately wanted to blind Gabriel for his arrogance. But he couldn’t move. The holy weapons and weird heavy ropes negated his demonic miracles more effectively than standing in the Vatican Palace. He was sure Jahaziel could resist in some way, but the second he made a move, it would once again all be over that much sooner. He looked back up at Jahaziel, nodding once, barely able to stop his mouth from contorting. Tears fell freely down his cheeks.

He would watch. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t, if the last thing scored into his mind wasn’t the face of the being he’d both lived for and would die for. This was it. This was the end, and he would do what his dearest angel wanted, no matter what. Even if it meant watching him cease to exist right before his very eyes.

Jahaziel relaxed a bit when the sadness dissipated and his pupils widened as he realized he could at least go out staring at the person he loved most. They didn’t need to say anything. They knew each other completely, and their words to one another would never be for the likes of these degenerates to hear. The two of them shared a bond no other being in existence did. And the both of them took immense mutual pride in that. His own death would not be in vain. And it most _certainly_ would not be for the benefit of a place they'd both grown to despise so, so much.


	29. Chapter 29

It was then the two demons felt as if a heavy down comforter had been dropped over the entire room, not unlike the blue light they had waded through earlier. The only differences being that one, there was no blue light, and two, the only parties unaffected were themselves - and, to their immeasurable surprise, Belphegor, who had only now entered the room. Tailed by a very annoyed-looking Abarron. 

Jahaziel and Aziraphale shared a paled look of confusion, gazes moving from one face to another as everyone not affiliated with Hell properly stilled as if time had slowed down to the barest fraction of normal speed. 

“S-sir,” Jahaziel managed, nodding his head respectfully. It was all he could do in the moment, he thought. Belphegor was either here to rescue them or kill them himself, and his mind simply could not formulate any other possible outcomes. 

Finally able to assess the situation from where he could see everyone, Belphegor’s saggy eyes moved from one holy entity to the next, ignoring the two other demons present entirely for the time being. The Prince of Sloth leaned towards Abarron, saying something neither Aziraphale nor Jahaziel could hear.

“Yes, _well,_ ” Abarron began. “We can largely ignore Uriel’s outburst, I think. Never was able to get a proper read on them anyway. Now we at least know what they’re capable of.” He rubbed over his neck with a look of discomfort. Aziraphale figured this must be the _actual_ Abarron, not one of the innumerable copies. (Always assumed there was a type of hivemind going on there with his… entourage.) And not that it hadn’t been before, but he realized too that this interruption was a far bigger deal than the celestial oddcouple might have anticipated. “You’d prefer to carry out the trial here, sir? Or should we take it elsewhere? I believe...” He flipped through some papers on a clipboard he pulled from nowhere. “Beelzebub has an opening now, if we want to relocate.”

“Tr -” Jahaziel shook his head. “I’m sorry, _trial?_ ” He scooted around Uriel, not daring to disturb them in this state regardless of his feelings towards them. “What is this trial _for_ , exactly?”

“We _are_ in the middle of something,” Aziraphale piped, unsure why he seemed more eager to continue with whatever it was the gang of Heavenly bullies had begun rather than see this out. Perhaps it was because what Gabriel and the rest were bringing down seemed at least _absolute._ One could never really tell with Hell, no matter how long they’d spent in their ranks. “But perhaps a change of scenery would be… preferable.” 

Belphegor looked around the familiar room, shaking his head. “We need a proper setting. These two have kept us waiting long enough,” he drawled in his loitering voice. And, as if finally realizing Jahaziel had spoken, the prince looked at him. “It’s a trial for your malefactions against Hell, Crawly. I know this isn’t an easy adjustment, and it’s only been a few days, but _come now._ ” Eyes turned to Aziraphale next. “And you, Azrikam. I would have thought you’d teach him better.” 

The two shared another look, their spirits sinking somehow further. Aziraphale’s eyes did not leave Jahaziel’s. “Malefactions? There hasn’t been any time,” he stated plainly, gaze now shifting to Belphegor. “You know as well as we do… more or less, what’s going on up there.” It annoyed him more than anything else to know all that they’d been through, and they were being _slapped on the wrist_ for not being able to send Jahaziel properly through the motions in hours what he himself had centuries to acclimate to. Slapped on the wrist, or worse. A proper setting for a proper trial. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, it would seem.

“And you know as well as I do that I don’t like being bothered.” Belphegor nodded at Abarron, and the lesser demon moved to usher Aziraphale away with them. Uriel must have willed those awful stardust ropes to be light enough for standing and movement, thank Someone, Jahaziel mused. The prince came to lead Jahaziel. “We’ll use Beelzebub’s court.” With a final look around the nearly stark-still room, the four left the receiving bay, heading down another set of confusing hallways and up two steep flights of stairs.

They walked in silence, so many questions battering the gates of Jahaziel and Aziraphale’s minds that neither could form a proper sentence to ask any of them. They couldn’t even look at each other like this, Belphegor and Abarron standing between the two of them as they escorted them to what Jahaziel could only assume was Beelzebub’s ‘court.’ Aziraphale knew of it, but he’d never had cause to visit it since… well. Things like this never happened down here. 

Turning a corner, harsh fluorescent lighting made Jahaziel hiss softly, squeezing his eyes shut to rid them of the stars and spots as they trekked down yet another hall. But this one seemed to end in no more than a small room, a grimy curtain, and a large, ornate throne. It sat empty apart from a small, hand-written sign draped over it that read ‘Back in 20’.

Belphegor cleared the sign with a quiet mumble, sitting on the throne himself. Beelzebub wasn’t exactly a large prince, so the fit was a little tight, but he managed. Abarron took a spot standing next to him after Jahaziel and Aziraphale, still in his bindings, were left to stand in front of the throne. This way, at least, they were next to one another - concealing what he could from view, the fallen angel found and gripped Aziraphale’s hand, feeling the ring on the demon’s finger as he did so. He was frightened. They both were, of course. Being whipped around between Heaven and Hell in such a short span of time and not knowing at all what to expect was wearing on them. Resigning themselves seemed much more appealing than holding out any sort of hope at this point. Call it macabre, but the fallen angel had been ready to die. Prolonging the inevitable was just _cruel._

Jahaziel cleared his throat quietly. “Are you going to give us a run-down first or just hop right to the sentence?” Aziraphale gave him a cautionary look that he could see out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. He was sick of waiting. Drawing out their suffering did them no favors. “Rather not drag this out any longer. I’m very tired of being in trouble.”

Abarron looked at his paperwork again, seemingly unperturbed by Jahaziel’s comment. “We’re still waiting for two more parties. Should be along any moment.”

Aziraphale felt as if everything had been drained out of him in that moment. “Hastur and Ligur,” he breathed, squeezing Jahaziel’s hand tightly before his tone picked up. “They’re coming to… bear witness…?”

“They have invaluable input on the situation at hand,” Belphegor informed, “Hastur has been your direct superior for centuries. No one would know better than him how to judge your character.”

The hand in Jahaziel’s immediately went clammy, and he watched Aziraphale nod timidly. “Ah.” His voice was small, and he swallowed. “Naturally. Right.”

...To Jahaziel, however, this sounded a bit like a tip in their favor. Belphegor didn’t seem to be breaking them out of Heaven’s grasp to immediately throw them into eternal double-damnation. He was actually being more fair than Jahaziel would have expected of a Prince of Hell, willing to get all the facts. But it also was telling, because he didn’t realize why there were three much bigger fish to fry just downstairs. It just went to show how little _anyone_ down here knew about what was going on between Heaven, Hell, and the happenings on earth. He had to ponder if Belphegor even wondered what the three archangels were doing there. Jahaziel’s expression brightened minimally. Aziraphale noted it, turning to look at him more. Almost excitedly, Jahaziel mouthed ‘They don’t know anything’ - at which Aziraphale brightened as well.

The excitement was short lived. Neither were exceptionally thrilled as the two demons that had held them at knifepoint in the car showed up, but the sliver of hope they had all but abandoned at the door returned, and they held onto it for dear life.

Hastur took a spot to Belphegor’s right, and Ligur stood to Abarron’s left. The two new arrivals glared daggers at Jahaziel and Aziraphale, but said nothing otherwise. Belphegor stood then, arms folded, addressing the front and centered supernaturals.

“Demons Azrikam and Crawly. You stand trial for your mis-misdeeds against Hell. Obfuscation of the Antichrist. Accompliceship in averting Armageddon. And perhaps the most condemnatory of all, treason for persuading our Master’s son to relinquish his powers, thereby rendering the apocalypse altogether impossible. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” Aziraphale and Jahaziel spoke in unison. “Except-” Aziraphale stepped forward slightly. “Except we did do those things. But - but it wasn’t as we intended. And there’s aspects that you don’t know about.” He looked back to Jahaziel, who nodded, looking to their peers, picking up where Aziraphale left off.

“There’s things no one knew about until only a few hours ago. Things Heaven was keeping off the table.” He felt both Hastur and Ligur’s gazes bore into him. “Things kept quiet to cloud the results. Things that… would have made these final days go a lot differently.” 

“Talking out their asses,” Hastur spit. “Look at them. Walking around with Hell’s favor, clearly squandering it for their own purposes. They’d sooner shed it to get back to Heaven than they would ever do anything for Hell’s benefit.” He was fixed on Aziraphale, and Jahaziel knew he may as well have not been present at all for how much Hastur considered him to be a threat. “All this time. Right under my nose. And Bifrons wanted to submit your name for Dukeship.” He sneered. “The thought makes me sick.” 

Aziraphale took it in stride, calmly staring Hastur down as he berated him. He knew better than to argue with him outright, and while he was absolutely petrified, Jahaziel had been right. No one in this room, save for them, knew what had happened. Sometimes, it seemed, it paid to be a nobody. “I’m certainly not after your title, Hastur. And I’m sure Belphegor doesn’t want to deal with all the paperwork, either. However, you are not entirely wrong. There are things that Ja -” He corrected himself. “Crawly and I have been doing that do not seem immediately advantageous to Hell. But don’t you think I would have defied direct orders much sooner had I intended to?” He paused, as if giving Hastur a chance to debunk him - which he did not. “Had I the intention of wronging Hell in some way, there have been many opportunities to do so. I have done my work. I have tempted. I have put in my time for six thousand years. And, with permission, I would like to speak on it. There are things Crawly would like to explain, too.”

“And no,” Jahaziel interjected, tone firm, “I would sooner die than go back to Heaven after everything they’ve done. Say what you will about me. Say what you will about him. Heaven will gain no pardon or sympathy from this mouth.”

Hastur scowled, Ligur narrowed his eyes. But Abarron and Belphegor nodded, the latter sitting again in the throne and making a ‘go on’ gesture with his hand.

Immediately, Jahaziel dove into the explanation, beginning the tale six thousand years ago.

“You were always going to receive Azrikam from Heaven.” It was a deep struggle to not say ‘us’ in that moment. “It was only a matter of time. And neither one of us knew it, but it was because of me.” Raised brows greeted him in reply to that line. “Azrikam was meant to Fall. I was the one that tempted Adam and Eve with the apple. I don’t know what he’s said about it, but that was my… oh, what did you call it.” He made a face, recollecting the fairly pretentious word Belphegor had used, and repeated it with an equally mocking look and tone. “ _Malefaction_ against Heaven. From the start, I was the bad - er. Well. Apple. But what Azrikam believed, I believed. We shared views that shaded Heaven from the very Beginning. And I think… I think it’s important you know that.” 

Hastur scoffed, his selective hearing blatantly showing. “Traitors attract traitors. Why am I not surprised?” (Which in hindsight made little sense, since literally everyone in Hell betrayed Heaven somehow to begin with.)

“Only incriminates you idiots more that you admit you’ve been plotting together this long,” Ligur added.

Hastur shot his assistant a tight lipped, “why would you tell them that? Now they’ll be more careful!” sort of look.

Belphegor ignored the two at his sides, having produced his own notebook, and he’d begun jotting things down. “He was vague on the reason he Fell, but it really wasn’t important at the time. Interesting to know he was supposed to be one of ours from the get go.” He looked to Abarron. “Error, do you think?”

Abarron shook his head with a shrug, and Jahaziel interrupted. “No no, it wasn’t an error. He was supposed to harbor questions about Heaven and Heavenly authority. That was part of the ‘Great’ Plan. He needed to get just enough of a taste and have it stolen away to plant the proper seed of defiance.” He sighed quietly. Even through it all, he still felt guilty about it. What he’d felt after fleeing to Egypt… He still wondered if that’s what Aziraphale felt. Maybe _still_ felt. If that flood of misery he sensed just a little while ago was any indication… “And I was to follow. Eventually. That was part of their Plan, too. He and I would be… Yes. Accomplices. Working together for opposing forces. But towards a common end.”

“And you know this how?” Belphegor questioned, looking up from his notebook. Abarron seemed equally as interested. Hastur and Ligur only appeared to be _exceedingly_ annoyed that the two of them would _dare_ try to delay the duke’s victory.

Jahaziel sighed. He shouldn’t have expected much from the Prince of Sloth, but he hadn’t anticipated _holding his hand_ through everything. But, in all honesty, it did feel just the smallest bit liberating to explain it to someone that wasn’t biased towards his oppressors. “Simple research, really. I thought about why the angel of the Eastern gate would be allowed to fall if it wasn’t actually his transgression. Say what you will about God, but She _does_ know a thing or two. Stood to reason that there had to be an explanation for such a blatant oversight. Looking in the archives gave me all the answers I needed.”

Aziraphale nodded helpfully, but didn’t interrupt.

“And then Uriel confirmed it. As did the rest of the High Council.” Jahaziel had done his best to remain as impartial as possible during this whole explanation, though such a fresh wound was still a sore spot. He kept his gaze steady on Belphegor, hoping that was good enough. “So. Yes. As I was saying. Working together. Opposing forces. Common end.”

“And I was to help, yes,” continued Aziraphale. “We worked together to keep things… quiet. It would not do for us to be found out by either side, but little did we know, that was all part of the Plan as well.” He looked at Jahaziel, then back at their jurors. “Crawly was also intended to Fall. Six thousand years later. It could have been for something as benign as jaywalking.”

Even though he said nothing, Jahaziel knew what he was referencing. He held no pride for what he did to Dolmiel, but it was an essential detail to mention. His voice was quiet. “Or something as unforgivable as killing an angel.” 

Four pairs of eyes snapped to him instantly, and Aziraphale would admit later that he’d never seen Belphegor look more alert than he did after that confession. “You didn’t,” the prince said quietly, disbelieving.

Jahaziel’s mouth went small for a moment. It wouldn’t do to admit his remorse to this particular crowd so he simply nodded once. “I did.”

“You killed an angel,” Belphegor then repeated after a beat, his gaze going distant and thoughtful.

Jahaziel gave a small sigh. “Heaven tried me for associating with the enemy and attempting to subvert Armageddon. I fled in an attempt to avoid persecution, but they sent someone. Dolmiel, his name was.”

“How the Heaven did you kill an angel?” Ligur asked, mouth agape. “Killed. Not just discorporated?”

Jahaziel swallowed nervously. Should he admit to using Hellfire? Admit that Aziraphale was the one who supplied it? Well, this _was_ the end, wasn’t it? Before he could open his mouth to damn them further, Aziraphale took the reigns.

“He used Hellfire. I… I gave it to him. Maybe not for precisely that purpose, but it was in case of emergency.” Whether or not trying to prolong the inevitable counted as an emergency, Aziraphale really could not say. He was mostly banking on Hell being more wildly impressed that he had a hand in killing an angel than being irreparably pissed he stole Hellfire. He smiled, but it was flimsy and faded. “Came in handy.”

“Emergency,” Hastur echoed. “What kind of emergency?”

“Forget that,” Abarron cut in. “You were supposed to Fall too. But you haven’t said what for. Only that you killed an angel and that was the excuse they used. Bloody good one, points for that, but there was a purpose for it. What was it?”

Jahaziel looked over at Aziraphale. He wanted nothing more than to rat out Heaven. Let Hell know how nasty and vile the whole lot was, how they truly flipped what it meant to be good and evil on its head. Though, honestly, it would make him no better than those that believed they held his allegiance. He may have fallen, he might now be a demon, but he recalled what Aziraphale said to him just last night. He couldn’t give in. Then they’d be just like the two bitter souls standing by Belphagor and Abarron. 

Then again, it could end up being their only saving grace. Somehow, he had to believe that. Belief in that was truthfully all they had. Belief that the side that they picked for themselves was going to win for the both of them. Jahaziel took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“From the start, Heaven had always intended Azrikam to serve as a beacon to lead them to Hell.” He gestured around them. “Here. Lead them here and allow them to deliver a first blow to your armies to weaken them considerably before the war. So they’d have an advantage.” Eyes closed, and his chin dropped a bit towards his chest. “My falling was supposed to set him off. That’s why I went to Egypt. To try and hide from him so that wouldn’t happen.” A deep, twisted sort of guilt formed in his chest, and he felt fingertips brush his hand. He didn’t know what to believe in anymore, but he couldn’t stop talking. “I didn’t want that. I didn’t want Heaven to get ahead. Everything I knew, everything I’d been force-fed my entire existence told me that Heaven was supposed to be _good_. That they were divinely chosen to triumph, right from the start. Even when it wasn’t divine or right at all. I believed in that lie. And maybe it was spite. Maybe it was comeuppance for what they did to Aziraphale. What they did to me. But I didn’t want them to win, unfairly or otherwise. I killed Dolmiel to try and prevent that.”

The four jurors of the trial exchanged looks that ranged from mildly impressed to mildly furious. Though Belphegor’s look turned concerned for a moment. “No word about anything like that?” he asked quietly of Abarron, who shook his head.

“Nothing, your disgrace.” The rabbit-eared demon looked up to smile at Jahaziel. “Looks like it worked.” To the fallen angel’s surprise, Abarron seemed to give him a nod of thanks. “Haven’t had any sort of undue ruckus down here aside from the holy blokes downstairs.”

“This information does nothing to change the fact that they still acted against Hell,” spat Hastur. “Great Plan or not, averting a sneak attack or not, treachery is treachery! _And_ they fucked up the end of the world! Hello?”

Ligur, whom Aziraphale would have expected to agree with Hastur by now, was silent. He looked between the jurors and the other two demons, his eyes and chameleon shifting conflictingly from pink to yellow.

Hastur continued regardless of support. “In fact, not even all your crimes against us have been listed! What of mislaying the Antichrist? With all that’s been said, that was _clearly_ intentional! Stealing hellfire to give to an angel is enough for a demotion! And having me waste time and resources meeting the _wrong_ family in Megidd--”

Belphegor had slowly looked to his right, the sloth atop his head waving a droopy claw lazily in the duke’s direction. Hastur opened his mouth a few times, making a small, voiceless huffing noise. He looked up at the prince in offense and a bit of fear, having been silenced. 

“Your mouth moves too much for you to listen,” stated Belphegor. He looked back and forth then between Jahaziel and Aziraphale, mulling something over for a long, tense minute. He rolled his eyes before long, letting out an annoyed groan. “ _Clearly_ this new information needs to be brought before the rest of the Dark Council.”

All four of the other demons sans Jahaziel paled at that. He’d only heard of the Dark Council preliminarily from Aziraphale and, more recently, the dastardly duo in front of them. Whoever they were, he easily assumed they were equally as powerful as the High Council.

Belphegor got up, his joints creaking and popping. He pointed at the floor in front of the two lesser demons. “You two will wait here.” 

As the four of them left the room, Jahaziel couldn’t even bring himself to look at Aziraphale. There was so much ugliness and sickening worry churning inside of him he felt as if any movement would make him immediately ill. But he could still speak.

“Are you scared?” he asked softly.

Aziraphale nodded, stepping closer and taking up his hand again. “Terrified.”

Not caring about the setting, and not caring if he got sick, Jahaziel turned and wrapped his arms tightly around Aziraphale. The demon wished he could hold him back, silently cursing the ropes binding him. Instead, he leaned his cheek to the side of his beloved’s head.

“I’m really tired of being on trial,” mumbled Jahaziel into the other’s neck.

Despite it all, Aziraphale breathed a laugh. “It’s entirely unfair. Three go arounds in just two days.” He placed a gentle kiss to Jahaziel’s hair. Poor thing.

“D’you think it’s too late to give Adam the beetle?” Jahaziel asked pitifully. “When he’s old enough. He’ll need a car. He’ll like it, don’t you think?”

Aziraphale chuckled again quietly. “I’m sure he’d love it. I can think of no one better to have it.”

Jahaziel went quiet again for another handful of moments, never having really thought what his last conversation would - let alone _should_ \- be about.

“...Think they’ll turn us into lesser creatures?” He piped up again. “Saw a round little thing walking the halls a few minutes ago.”

Aziraphale winced before Jahaziel could pull back. “If they’re feeling generous. The rest of the council may very well see us the way Hastur does.” His gaze dropped, quietly adding, “Let’s just hope neither Satan nor Belial are around today.” Which he doubted. A lot. Neither of them left Hell proper unless absolutely necessary. Though with everything happening, this may just have been deemed necessary.

Jahaziel swallowed, his throat dry. “Right. Let’s hope.” He sounded just as assured as Aziraphale did. “Suppose it would be awfully trite to say how fond I am of you.”

Aziraphale’s features contorted slightly and his eyes watered again. Damn these ropes! He wanted to hold Jahaziel’s face - kiss him, reassure him even though they were screwed if the Dark Council decided to rule against them. He wanted to keep holding out hope, but the closer it got to what felt like the real end, the weaker that hope became. Tears fell once more down his tacky cheeks. He thumbed the ring on his finger. “No, my love. It’s not trite at all.”

Jahaziel rested their foreheads together, his breath shallow and desperately trying to hide it. 

“I hate to admit Gabriel was right about something,” said Aziraphale softly, recalling Jahaziel’s recounting of his first trial, “but I am very glad we’re truly in this together now. Nothing separating us.”

Jahaziel’s eyes fell shut, and he took a steadying breath. Aziraphale always knew what to say, even if it was prefaced with Gabriel. His mind wandered in the brief second of silence. If the Dark Council decided part of their punishment would be to seperate them, since their conspiring was largely a paired effort, Jahaziel didn’t think he’d be able to resist falling into the dark just like he had been in Egypt. He _needed_ Aziraphale more than ever, and he couldn’t think of a worse punishment.


	30. Chapter 30

They heard footsteps approaching again, moving apart once more. But not before Jahaziel quickly wiped both his and Aziraphale’s eyes, trying his best at a brave smile. He could confidently say he’d never felt less bold in his life, but he loved the other demon too damn much to do anything but at least look strong for them both. The pair turned to those coming back into the room, and were immediately on guard. 

Belphegor had been followed, and Aziraphale could only think of it being worse if Asmodeus and Satan himself had been walking up the hall with them. Not only by Abarron and the other two, but _four_ other princes had joined them as well. Beelzebub, Mammon, Leviathan, and, of course, Belial, because they were just that unlucky. And finally, heading up the rear, was Bifrons, looking incredibly underwhelming in comparison.

“Azzrikam,” Beelzebub greeted, then looked to Jahaziel. “The newbie izz,” they stopped themself with a soft huff, “ _is_ here too. We haven’t met.”

“Crawly,” Jahaziel mumbled. “It’s. Um.” Brows did some interesting things in his attempt to find words. “An honor.” Safe a bet as any. 

“You found him!” Bifrons’ exclamation was uncharacteristically cheerful for everything happening, as if he’d either forgotten or hadn’t been informed this was a very serious trial. The pair smiled at him feebly, nodding. Aziraphale even lifted a hand awkwardly from his side to wave.

Belial wrinkled her nose at Bifrons’ comment. This prince, by all rights, seemed like Uriel’s twin but far taller and much colder, if that was possible. She looked strikingly _human,_ dressed in a simple black pantsuit with a ruffly white blouse. The only thing that really set her off as a demon were her reflective green eyes. Jahaziel didn’t know what sin she captained, but she was definitely the cleanest looking demon he’d ever seen aside from Aziraphale. “I have too much damage control to do right now to be wasting my time on this,” she commented mildly, sounding bored. “None of you could comprehend the horde of paperwork that’s filling my department to _cancel_ Armaggeddon.”

“Ohh come now, sugar, have a little patience,” said Mammon with a thick southern American accent. “Least none of us will have to shut down operations on earth no more. Think of all the opportunities yet to be had!” He flashed a pure golden toothed smile that matched his eyes, so befitting of what Aziraphale had told Jahaziel about the Prince of Greed. He was grossly overweight, dressed in a striped, stained tracksuit, and probably the hairiest humanoid Jahaziel had seen outside the simian genus. The hair on his face was styled in a way that reminded him of a dog, of all things. Jahaziel didn’t notice it at first, but a full sized hyena with the same color hair as Mammon and white eyes walked around the prince to sit at his side. It nodded in clear agreement with his prince’s statement.

“True,” said Belphegor ponderously. “But Belial is right as well. We do have much work down here to get on with first.” He nodded to Leviathan, and the fourth prince stepped forward.

“Demon Azrikam. Demon Crawly,” said the piranha-toothed, freakish looking prince. “You have stood trial today for treason, among a number of other things. But... It has been decided by this court of Hell that the verdict to be delivered to the two of you is...”

Their pause of not even two seconds made Belial snap at them. “Out with it already!”

Leviathan glared at her, managing to draw out the words slower than Belphegor somehow out of pure spite. “Not guilty.”

Relief took Jahaziel so swiftly his knees quite nearly gave out, wobbling right into Aziraphale, who had a hell of a time preventing the two of them from tumbling over while still bound. But he managed, and the two of them had similar bewildered murmurs of ‘what?’ as their meager reply.

As did Hastur and Ligur, though their reaction was to be instantly enraged and jump Leviathan. Mammon and Belphegor stopped them, holding them back and pacifying them by force.

“He stole Hellfire!” Hastur howled, fighting against Mammon’s heavy grip. “Tried to stop Armageddon!!”

“Zzzzzit down,” Beelzebub demanded loudly. “No one acts up in my jurizzdiction.” A gesture was made at Leviathan. “Continue.”

Disgruntled, they continued. “Azrikam stole Hellfire. And not only did it kill an angel, it prevented masses of our armies from being wiped out. The two of them did indeed prevent Armageddon. But in doing so, it saved us in the long run.” They sighed, (probably unintentionally) filling the room with the stench of dead fish. “The benefits for Hell outweigh whatever slander you could come up for them, Hastur. In fact, I even find myself quite. Well. Envious that I couldn’t claim to have done such beneficial things for Hell myself. ...So, in an unprecedented decision, we are… promoting you. Of a sort.”

“We are introducing a new subset of demons and naming you two the Patron Reprobates of Discord and Deception,” said Belial, finally letting something other than boredom into her voice. She smirked. “My idea, naturally, once I heard everything. You can fight amongst the two of you whoever gets which title; it doesn’t matter to us. Just let us know what you decide.”

Ligur, rather than be irate any longer, was only confused. “What’s a reprobate?” 

“Opposite of Saint. Or damn near closest thing to it.” Mammon shrugged.

“I still tried to get you to duke,” Bifrons piped from the modest crowd. “They said it wasn’t enough.” His eyebrows wiggled enticingly, and Jahaziel actually had to try very hard to prevent a grin from forming on his face. Seeing how utterly _pissed_ the comment seemed to make Hastur, the effort was considerable. And of all things, he finally recognized him. This was the demon he’d heard Aziraphale convert in his very church the first time he’d set foot in it. Funny how things like that worked out. He was more glad than ever that Aziraphale had taken up that avenue of work on the surface. While Bifrons hadn’t exactly done much, he’d preserved his star chart - and perhaps, if even just the smallest bit, their lives.

“What, ah. What does that… reprobatehood entail, exactly?” Aziraphale asked in quiet, still-lingering confusion.

Belphegor stepped away from Ligur, his hands behind his back once more. “Well, it’s in dishonor of your rather grandiose misdeeds against Heaven. For the long and short run. You’d be _something_ of dukes. Though.” He glanced at Hastur, whose eyes had gone wide with reproach. “I do believe being known amongst the occultish sinners on earth would take you a step above that.”

“You cannot be _serious_!” Hastur finally exploded, his voice getting higher in his frustration.

“Must I mute you again?” Belphagor said, dangerously quiet.

“Indeed, if you can’t bear to hear these proceedings, Duke Hastur, then _leave,_ ” Leviathan sneered, their creepy spiked jawline extending to what looked like short tentacles before returning to normal. They looked back to the demons being tried. “In addition to mortal veneration, you will have increased caps on your power balances, access to more complex assignments should you choose to accept them, and general creative freedom to spread said discord and deception as you see fit.” They shrugged, white and red striped quills on their shoulders ruffling for a moment. “From what Bifrons tells us, you’ve done plenty well at it thus far, Azrikam. We see nothing but benefits for us in having an angel killer working with you on Earth too.”

Jahaziel couldn’t help but look among the princes, his suspicion growing. “I may not have been here very long,” he started in a level tone, “but a deal this good has to have some kind of catch.”

Belphegor’s mouth curled in a greasy smile. “Shrewd.” He thumped the backs of his fingers against Belial’s shoulder, then gestured at Jahaziel proudly. “Mine, that one.”

The other prince rolled her eyes.

“The catch izz that when the time comez for Armageddon to rezztart, you shall play no part in preventing it.” Beelzebub fixated Aziraphale with their gaze, the fly atop their head even tilting its creepy insectoid head to him as well. “You will head legions of demons under direct supervision of myself and Belphegor. You will either win or die with us. _This_ is non-negotiable.”

Both lesser demons stared at each other for a moment. “Ah. When ehm,” Jahaziel slid his hands in his pockets, trying for casual but just looking stiff. “When would that be?”

“Well see, that’s the kicker, really,” drawled Mammon, flicking Hastur out of his way with just a movement of his wrist. The Duke stumbled and glared, but he didn’t protest, staying quiet for fear of all the supernatural power in the room to silence or punish him. Mammon folded his hands together over his round stomach. “Technically, no two Christ figures can exist at the same time. Anti or otherwise. And since you both up and convinced him to give up the ghost…” He shrugged. “We’re stuck at square one until that boy kicks it.”

Jahazie’s gaze became extremely sharp at that. He didn’t trust these people _whatsoever,_ much like how he didn’t trust Heaven when he was there either.

“ _Pleazze,_ ” said Beelzebub, holding their hands behind their back. “No need for that look. We aren’t going to kill him. Only our Lord could do so, and he’s only gravely disappointed in the lad. Blames you two entirely.”

Aziraphale thinned his lips. Well, the Devil was well within his right here. For once. “So. However long Adam lives. Then another child will be born to the same fate?”

Belial scoffed. “Hello? Of course it will, come on,” she snapped her fingers impatiently three times, “keep up.” ( _Oh, she and Gabriel would get on well,_ Jahaziel thought irritatedly.)

“So.” Belphegor walked up to them, stopping just three feet away. He looked from one to the other, silently menacing due to his height and those creepy horns. “Do we have an agreement then?”

Both Jahaziel and Aziraphale looked at each other, quickly weighing the other option of devolving into sea cucumbers at Leviathan’s behest. Neither wanted to be a part of Armageddon ever again. But what other choice did they have of getting back to their old lives right now? Giving a short sigh, Aziraphale nodded. “I accept the terms.”

Abarron came without being bidden to angle his clipboard low enough for Aziraphale to sign the forms atop it. Jahaziel grit his teeth as Aziraphale’s glowing demon sigil faded into black ink on the paper. He did like the idea of finally not having a miracle--or… un-miracle cap anymore. And being able to go home. He tried to focus on the positives right now. They basically made out like thieves. And without being under such heavy guard, or perpetually on the run, they could have time to figure things out. Be they plans to avert the _next_ Armageddon, or what sort of flowers to plant outside the church. Or what to do with that unsightly broken fountain. “I accept the terms as well.” Abarron brought him the clipboard, and he signed his flowing ‘J’ symbol in lieu of a demonic sigil. (Couldn't very well sign with his heavenly one, and he hadn't yet gotten a demonic one.)

Belphegor stepped away again, looking relieved but still his blasé sort of normal. “Now then. With that out of the way.”

“We also need to take care of the three archangels downstairs,” reminded Leviathan, lipless mouth curving into a sharp smile. “And we have a surprise attack of our own this time.”

All five princes looked down the hall they’d come down, and footsteps could be heard approaching. Entering the room then was none other than the Archangel Camael. Jahaziel’s jaw dropped, blinking twice to make sure he was really seeing this. He almost spoke before—

The red-eyed angel held up a hand to him. “Don’t start. The less time I have to spend here the better.” He glanced at the princes. “No offense.”

Mammon crossed his arms over his chest, shaking his head with a smirk. His hell-hyena cackled mockingly. “Always an angel, even when getting his hands dirty.”

Camael ignored him, stepping forward to the oddcouple. “I’m a silent part in this. That must be clear.” His lips thinned, and he laced his fingers together. “I can’t just sit by any longer and let the three of them bandy about their power and desires outside God’s will. They’ve been at it too long, and I earnestly believe they’re out of contr--”

“No one cares, Pastor John. Get to the point already,” barked Belial.

Camael’s temples pulsed, and he studiously ignored her too. “ _Suffice it to say,_ I’d rather conduct war fairly than play things the way my fellows do. And I’ve been idle too long.”

After a brief quiet in the room, Mammon hummed. “You know, I could see you making a fine addition to our staff down here.”

Belial laughed loudly. “Oh yeah? As what? The Prince of Fighting Fair? Of Playing Nice? Be serious.”

“We can _always_ use more power to add amongst the princes,” Mammon pointed out. “Archangel his size and magnitude--”

Belphegor held up a hand. “Ah ah--let’s stay on track here, shall we?” He gestured to Aziraphale and Jahaziel. “As your first act as Patron Reprobates, we’d like to give you your first assignment. Since these archangels are here because of you, we’re giving you three options. One: keep them as hostages.” He looked up to Camael. “Which you would then inform the rest of your Host that we’ll demolish the three with our Lord’s personal Hellfire if they send angels to earth within the next one hundred years. I can keep the three still for a millennia if I want.”

Camael’s eyes widened considerably. “Wait, that wasn’t part of the--”

“Two,” Belphegor interrupted seamlessly, “bring them out of their imprisoned state and inform them we know all about their plans. They are in Hell, after all. It’s not as if they can just leave by themselves without an escort. And I’m sure the legions would be very interested to hear about what they tried to do to us.”

Camael itched the side of his face, clearly not liking either of those options much. Probably rethinking his own decision to come down here now too, Jahaziel mused silently to himself.

“Or three,” the Prince of Sloth smirked, “you can simply fuck with them however you see fit.”

That gave the oddcouple surprised pause. Jahaziel shot Aziraphale a pointed look. They both knew which of the three each other was going to choose without even needing to say it. “Oh dear,” said Aziraphale with a sigh, as if this were actually a hefty choice to make. “I do believe we’ll need to consider this a moment.”

Jahaziel nodded sagely. “Yeah. Yeah… tough decision, that.” He looked Camael up and down, remembering just how much the big guy’s mace hurt when it struck his soul. “What exactly are you getting out of this? Why agree to this? They’re essentially your family.” Camael was… an archangel. He _bled_ holiness. To even learn that someone such as himself could hold even an ounce of rebellion at this stage... shocked him.

“Simple.” Camael’s voice had somehow dropped in timber from his already rumbling baritone. “I don’t take well to being humiliated in front of my subordinates. Even if that person is my superior.”

Jahaziel couldn’t exactly sympathize, but he more than understood wanting to get back at those three. A technically no-longer-needed part of him felt slightly bad, but a plan was forming in his head. And they were going to need the archangel’s help to enact it. One last look of confirmation from Aziraphale, and Jahaziel raised his eyebrows blithely at Belphegor. “Option three. Three sounds about right.”

All five of the princes certainly approved from their various wicked smiles. Bifrons gave Jahaziel an eager thumbs up, even - which the fallen angel returned with a weary sort-of smile.

Not twenty minutes after the Dark Council officially adjourned, Camael, Belphegor, Aziraphale, and Jahaziel were back down in the Sloth’s receiving bay. The three angels were still just as motionless, and the two new reprobates set the scene and took their positions. Camael and Belphegor left once the lesser demons were back in their old placement, and Belphegor gave a wary grimace to the holy weapons in the room. “Mph. Not the way I’d go about this, but… I do say we know better than to question the both of your motives at this point.” 

Aziraphale and Jahaziel shared another glance. The newly fallen angel would later admit that using the death of someone he’d once considered a comrade was not exactly the legacy he’d like to be remembered for. Aziraphale would of course understand and agree with him - while reminding him it was quite possibly the only thing keeping them from being turned into a toadstool or worse. Jahaziel would agree with this, too, though with quite a few sounds of begrudging protest. Their motivations could be kept close to the chest as always, ambiguous and vague. As long as Hell believed they weren’t actively against anything happening in the Underworld, they’d be safe. It’d be a tough battle, but they’d manage.

“Yup,” Jahaziel affirmed with a nod, finishing up and getting behind Uriel’s blade once again. “Motivations. Entirely hellish and diabolical. No questioning necessary.”

With a parting hum of approval, Belphegor left. Time restarted the second he closed the door.


	31. Chapter 31

Gabriel looked between the two demons in confusion. Their silent conversation (that seemed to the two of them to have happened a year ago at this point) was completely lost on the archangel, but he stuck his arm out to hike up his sleeve and peek at his rolex. “Mmkay… times’s up.” He gave Jahaziel one last look, wrinkling his nose. “I’d say this’ll hurt me more than you or something, but... you know, I really can’t wait to never look at your insipid face again, sunshine.”

“Feeling’s mutual for once, Gabe,” said Jahaziel, doing a convincing job making himself sound nervous. He sneered at the archangel. “Said it once, I’ll say it again. You really are the biggest coward I’ve ever met. Won’t even kill me yourself, eh? Rely on this poor sod behind me to do all your dirty work. And even Michael too.” He gestured to the head archangel. “Really have them all proper whipped, don’t you?”

Both Uriel and Michael exchanged looks. Aziraphale’s mouth quirked in the tiniest, irresistible smile, pride filling his chest to the brim.

Gabriel breathed a laugh. “Don’t listen to him. He’s only trying to divide us in his last moments. Textbook desperation.”

“Not causing division if I’m only pointing out the truth, really. You’re all a load of sorry, underhanded stiffs.” Jahaziel’s eyes had gone full snake, deeply golden and sinister looking in the dim light. “But you. Ohhh _you_ make them all pale in comparison. Heartless company man that doesn’t care a shred about anyone but himself and his next commendation. You’d betray anyone on the High Council with a big, bleached smile if it made you look better.”

“Jahaziel,” Gabriel said, looking at him with pity. “ _Please._ You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“Is he though?” Uriel piped up. “Do you not care about us?”

“Uriel. Now is not the time,” said Michael from the other side of the room. “We have a job to do.”

“Indeed. Now.” Gabriel nodded to the gun. “If you don’t mind?”

“You really going to let him order you around?” Aziraphale chimed curiously, eager to stir the pot some more.

“ _Quiet, _” snapped Michael, pressing their sword edge harder against his chest. Aziraphale made a “yikes” face at Jahaziel, doubling over his chin. _Ooh, someone’s angry.___

__“Aren’t you older than him, Uriel?” Jahaziel asked innocently, locking eyes with Gabriel._ _

__Furious, but unable to look away, Gabriel barked at the lesser archangel holding the gun. “ _Uriel,_ shoot him!”_ _

__Uriel’s eyes yellowed in their irritation. They took the gun away from Jahaziel’s back and pointed it briefly at Gabriel. For all the good it would have done. “No, alright, hold on. Since when exactly does Messenger Service tell Miracle Outflow what to do? If anyone should be standing where you are, it’s Michael. They at least have the proper authority.” They shook their head. “No.” They threw the black squirt gun at Gabriel, who clumsily caught it in one hand. “If anyone’s killing him, it ought to be you, archangel.”_ _

__Gabriel’s jaw tightened visibly. “ _Fine._ ” He lifted his sword tip off the floor with a ring of metal on stone, fiddling with the gun until it was properly fitted in his palm to pull the trigger. “Fine. We’ll have it your way,” he seemed to say to both Uriel and Jahaziel. He took a couple steps forward, the baggies on his feet crinkling as he moved._ _

__Jahaziel couldn’t help but giggle, even as Gabriel leveled the holy water filled pistol at his face._ _

__Any ounce of pleasure Gabriel had been taking in this was so thoroughly extinguished. He rolled his eyes. “ _What,_ Jahaziel?”_ _

__“Oh god—er, Satan I guess, I’m sorry,” Jahaziel gasped, continuing to laugh as he spoke. Ten full seconds of laughter filled the room around them before he regained composure enough to reply. “Life’s strange. I never would have thought I’d be killed with a squirt gun by a rube wearing galoshes.”_ _

__Gabriel shook his head. “You are truly pathetic.” He pressed the barrel of the gun to Jahaziel’s cheek. “And crazier than I gave you credit for.” Not a moment after he’d spoken, he squeezed the trigger._ _

__And one half of the demon’s face simply got soaked. No sizzling or melting took place. Gabriel’s eyes flicked between the gun and Jahaziel and Uriel before pulling the trigger three more times, only serving to darken Jahaziel’s lapels with water. For good measure, Gabriel swung his holy sword straight across his neck, but the sword passed through him like a stick through fog, the weapon dissolving into nothing. It took everything in the fallen angel not to flinch._ _

__Jahaziel spit the excess water from his mouth. “Ugh. When was the last time you changed that holy water? Tastes a bit moldy.”_ _

__“That’s not possible,” breathed Michael incredulously, their eyes wide._ _

__“What the _hell_ is going on?” Gabriel demanded, fuming. His eyes snapped to Uriel again, waving the toy gun in their direction. “ _Did you fill this with regular water?_ ”_ _

__Uriel’s eyes flashed. “Who do you take me for?! _Of course I didn’t!_ ”_ _

__“Well, _clearly,_ ” Gabriel snarled, ”you didn’t bless it properly, because—”_ _

__“Ah, gentlepeople!” said Aziraphale just loudly enough over Gabriel. He waved a little for attention as well as he could in bindings. “If I may? Jahaziel _did_ eliminate one of your people. A deed like that garners quite the commendations down here.”_ _

__“Being immune to holy water and weapons is _not! Possible!_ ” Michael sounded almost hysterical, voice tighter than ever. “There’s no power in Hell to combat them!”_ _

__Jahaziel tilted his head briefly. “Kind of looks like there just might be. He’s not wrong.” He smiled askance at Gabriel, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Been awarded the same way John, Thomas, and all those apostle sorts were up there. Only. You know. Evil.”_ _

__The angels looked at a complete, utter loss for words. None of this would have been possible if Camael hadn't obligingly replaced every holy weapon in the room with useless, perfect replicas used for strategy meetings. And the pair of demons could _not_ have been more thrilled. _ _

__“Looks like your little plan is no longer possible, mm?” Aziraphale glanced over his shoulder at Michael. “Lift home? I mean, we assume you’ll need one. Since you decapitated your last escort and you have no real way out.”_ _

__“Unless you’d like to stay,” piped Jahaziel cheerfully, “sure the whole lot down here would _love_ to play audience. Dark Council is simply dying to meet you, what with you storming their gates and all. To do… What, exactly? Your plan doesn’t seem to have worked, Great or otherwise. I’m sure you’ll all have a rip-roaring good time explaining yourselves.”_ _

__Gabriel’s mouth had gone impossibly thin. His arm with the gun dropped, and the plastic creaked under his grip. For the first time in Jahaziel’s memory, he saw the archangel’s controlled visage crack. His violet eyes brightened in rage as if under a black light. He closed them, taking a quick breath before glaring at Jahaziel once more, ordinary purple back. A smile, chillier than anything, was split between the two of them. “This isn’t over.” He lifted a finger, turning to face Aziraphale, then Jahaziel. He shook his head and looked as if he were about to deliver some kind of scathing final word before the door opened behind him, and Bifrons entered._ _

__“You done yet?” he asked boredly of Jahaziel, who caught the demon’s surreptitious wink. “They need an escort?”_ _

__Jahaziel beamed at him. “If you don’t mind. We have trouble to cause, after all.”_ _

__“Very good, sir.” And Bifrons seemed all too happy to lead the trio of bewildered and furious angels out._ _

__The moment the group cleared the door, the church reappeared around them. The astral bindings dissipated around Aziraphale as well, who wasted no time in rushing over to his fallen angel. And he… was speechless. All he could do was stare at Jahaziel with a difficult to read look. They had done it. Somehow, in some way, the two of them had managed to escape the ire of both Heaven _and_ Hell unscathed. After all they had done. Heaven and Hell were off their tails. _ _

__And _that_ called for celebration._ _


	32. Chapter 32

First things first. More than anything, Jahaziel wanted to get out of the church as quickly as possible. Despite the favorable outcome of this trial the newly fallen angel was having quite a difficult time dealing with the setting of the church. It was nothing against the church itself, what it stood for, or Aziraphale himself - he just desperately needed a change of scenery. And some fresh air. The lingering fear of being pulled into _yet another_ sham of a trial for one reason or another had him eager to be on the move, and he motioned for Aziraphale to follow him as he stepped outside. The cloying atmosphere dissipated in the cool air, and he sighed heavily. 

Aziraphale, at his side, took in a deep breath of his own, squinting thoughtfully into the mid-afternoon light. “Alright, my dear?” he asked quietly, gaze finally sliding over, curious beneath his tinted lenses. Curious. Cautious. Jahaziel was not a delicate being. Though these last few days…

Jahaziel nodded, albeit somewhat distantly. He was standing next to Aziraphale, but he may as well have been a hundred miles away. “No. Not… I mean, I’ll get there. Eventually.” Another deep breath, another nod. “Think I’d like to crack open that scotch again. What do you say?” He looked over at him, and Aziraphale could see the desperation to just _get away from here_ in his eyes. “At mine?”

...And the demon’s brows knit gently, hand coming to rest on Jahaziel’s arm. “...Jahaziel... it burned down. Remember?” Squeeze. He really hated bringing it up again, especially _now_ of all times. But it wouldn’t do to bring Jahaziel there and have there be nothing. Oh, his heart _cracked_ though, just at the reaction he got. “I was there. The whole building. Flaming like anything.” 

“Ah.” Feeling cold, and tired, and very very beaten, Jahaziel just nodded again bleakly. “Right.” A long breath was let out. Even outside, he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. “Well. Hellfire. We should… see if there are any humans that need help. Cleanup and whatnot, hm?” He wasn’t in denial. Nosir. He saw Aziraphale smile weakly in reply and felt him pat his arm.

“Of course.” It was very like Jahaziel to think about the safety of those around him, status shift or no. And he must have been so terribly worried about his colleagues. And what they’d do now, with the observatory destroyed. The poor things. Mm, it wasn’t _entirely_ out of the realm of possibility to anonymously fund a rebuild… Sure, it would take some time, but. “In the meantime. You can stay with me, if you’d like.” The mere suggestion made Aziraphale a little excited, and then a little guilty. “Since you’d be able to. Without… Without worry.”

Silver lining. Jahaziel smiled at him more fondly, in spite of it all, nodding and patting his back a few times before rubbing it gently.

To the car now, Jahaziel got into the driver’s seat, waiting for Aziraphale to join him before starting it up with far less difficulty than before. Safe to say, he was not prepared for nor looking forward to facing the ruin of the observatory and his flat. But it wasn’t something he could ignore. He could snap them all better now surely, with all the power they now possessed, but it would never be the same. The bright side of everything was that he and Aziraphale could continue to operate on Earth. Together, _finally_. He couldn’t lose focus of that. So, perhaps prematurely, perhaps ill-advised, he was doing his best to plod on through everything and just get the trauma over and done with. Once he could surmount that, face the reality of everything he had being gone, they could get to work on establishing themselves further here. They could get to work on whatever Armageddon came next.

For the first time, maybe ever, their drive was completely silent. The radio had nothing to say, and neither did Aziraphale - he figured Jahaziel would speak if he had anything he wanted to say. And the demon ignored any desperate desires to ask him how he was feeling. No matter how badly he wanted to. If Jahaziel wanted to talk, he would.

It wasn’t as though Jahaziel _didn’t_ want to talk. It was more the issue that there was so much that had _happened_ in the past 48 hours. Plus, he couldn’t even think of somewhere to possibly begin. There were still things left unsaid about his first trial. Talking to Adam. Comments and statements that had fallen short in Egypt. That thing in Mauna Kea. (Which was years old, though he had new thoughts on it now.) But he said nothing, focusing on the road, listening to the hum of tires on asphalt and doing his damndest to not zone completely out. He hadn’t even realized that they’d arrived.

“Oh my word.”

Aziraphale’s exclamation made Jahaziel look up and around curiously. At first, nothing struck him as strange. At second, he realized it was because -

“The observatory.” Perfect. Pristine. And his flat stood proudly, unscathed, exactly where he’d left it. Jahaziel stepped out of the car to jog over to the buildings. Eyes wide and mouth agape in awe, a helpless huff of a breath left him. Aziraphale joined him not a moment later, similarly incredulous. The fallen angel’s hand reached out, brushing over the brass lettering proudly proclaiming when the observatory had been established - 10 August, 1675. Not a scratch. No more than usual, anyway. He looked over at Aziraphale, concern and relief equally taking over his face. “How…?”

In all honesty, the demon had no explanation. Ideas aplenty ran through his mind, but nothing seemed to quite explain just what they were seeing. The two wandered over to the flat, inspecting it meticulously from the outside. Not a singed blade of grass. Not a single broken window. Humans, though scarce this time of day, went about their business as if the building hadn’t been consumed by fire just hours before. It was all so very, very confusing.

And distressing. 

Jahaziel wasn’t quite as willing to accept this as pure miracle - no, he’d put the idea of anything ever working out favorably for him well behind in his mind as early as a few weeks ago. “I don’t understand.” Less of a statement, more of a demand to know just what was going on here. “It’s still here. Why is it still here?”

Aziraphale, willing to be more optimistic, smiled at him. “I haven’t the foggiest, my dear. But who are we to question providence?”

The look he got from Jahaziel was comical in its disbelief. “Demons!” He gestured between the two of them animatedly. “We’re demons! _We_ question providence! By nature!” 

Instead of replying, Aziraphale only laughed, shaking his head and opening the door to the flat to let them both in. Still being loudly contrary, Jahaziel did follow behind him, but stopped short once he got a look at the inside.

Everything was as he left it. As if he hadn’t rifled through everything frantically some handful of hours prior. The coffee table he’d gotten from a quaint shop in Cuba wasn’t burned to ashes, the wood floors still creaked in all the same places, especially just before the black and grey checkered tile in the kitchen. All his most significant little mementos from millennia of human connections lined the black lacquered shelves behind the flatscreen. The safe painting was back in its place as well. He paused before pushing it aside and putting the combination in. For a brief second, he thought that maybe, _just maybe_ , his killing of Dolmiel had been reversed too. But when he saw the empty steel compartment inside, deep down he figured he wouldn’t be so lucky. He knew there were no physical remnants of the unholy death anymore, but he could feel the dulled supernatural agony of what happened here, right in the middle of his living room floor. For now, he ignored it. Nothing more than a spot he wouldn’t step on. Ever again. As long as he lived here.

Finally, the two approached the bedroom, and Aziraphale felt a strong grip on his arm as they entered.

Above the bed, ready and waiting, was the frame that previously held the star chart that Jahaziel now reached into his pocket for. Wrinkled and creased, but still in one piece, he held it in front of himself, fingers brushing it lightly. “You brought it for me.” 

“Of course I did,” Aziraphale murmured softly. 

“From Hell. And you found me, and you brought it for me.” Jahaziel released Aziraphale’s arm to unfold the chart carefully, the paper brittle in his hands. The demon moved away to bring down the frame, taking it apart on the bed and beckoning the fallen angel closer.

“Naturally. It’s important to you.” Aziraphale accepted the chart, delicately replacing it, squaring it off and replacing the backing. “So it’s important to me.” Turning it over, it looked right at home. A little worse for wear, but exactly where it belonged. _”You’re_ important to me.”

Oh, _hell._ Why now of all times did the weight of everything that had happened have to strike him like a ton of bricks? A lost look was given to Aziraphale, eyes welling. “I kn--” His voice broke, just a bit, and he cleared his throat. “I know.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I can’t believe we made it out of that alive.”

Aziraphale thinned his lips, looking back down at the frame. He snapped, and it reappeared where it belonged above the bed. Sitting on the edge of the huge mattress, the demon patted the spot next to him. He spotted the signs once more of Jahaziel holding in something he shouldn’t be. This had to be dealt with before anything else.

Out of habit and not wanting to further use Aziraphale as a sort of crutch for all this craziness that had happened to them, Jahaziel folded his arms and shook his head. He blinked a couple times behind the safety of his glasses to force the tears back in. He knew if he sat he was going to cry. He should have just allowed himself to be relieved, ignore all the bad more or less like Aziraphale had told him to do in Egypt. Focus on the good. Focus. His most beloved place on earth was unscathed. His dear human friends still had their jobs. His most precious possessions were back. He should be trotting the halls of the observatory gaily, planning an impromptu celebratory dinner party for the staff, taking his love to the Ritz like they’d always meant to, or doing just about anything else. Anything other than trying not to break down _yet again--_

“Jahaziel.” Aziraphale held up both hands for the fallen angel to take. “Dearest, please. Don’t.” _Don’t hold it in_ went without saying, because the demon just knew him _that well._

A thick, heavy ball formed in Jahaziel’s throat. He looked at the chart once more before taking Aziraphale’s hands tightly. Holding on like they’d evaporate at any second. “I don’t want to put anything on you,” he managed, though his voice was almost impossible to hold steady now. He couldn’t help but remember what he’d felt from Aziraphale in what they thought were their last moments. That _awful_ pain and all-consuming depression. He didn’t know how Aziraphale stood that. “You’ve been through it too.”

Steadfast as he’d always been, Aziraphale didn’t pick up at the moment that Jahaziel meant that one instance where he’d let go. He took his glasses off, tapping them into his inner pocket before taking Jahaziel’s hands once again and finally bringing the fallen angel down to sit on the mattress with him. “My angel, I believe I have a somewhat thicker skin than you might at this current point in time.” He took Jahaziel’s glasses off as well then took him into his arms. “I’m here. I will _always_ be here, and so will you. Remember? Same as always. But better.”

The memory of Dolmiel’s screams cloyed at the edges of his temples from the direction of his living room. He clutched onto Aziraphale, his pupils going impossibly thin in stress. “You never told me.”

“What do you mean? Of course, I’ve said so befo--”

“N-no. No. You never...” He could no longer keep the desperation out of his voice. He let out a choked sob. “You never told me how you can _feel_ it. It’s everywhere. _All the time,_ Azzy. I don’t know how you can bear it.”

Aziraphale didn’t have to ask to know what Jahaziel was referring to. Anything negative in the world, especially of an evil nature, stood out as much as he knew goodness once stood out to Jahaziel. The supernatural residue of the screaming angel bit at the edges of his senses as well. He gently gripped the short hair on the back of the fallen angel’s head, pressing Jahaziel more to his shoulder. “I don’t suppose it would be any comfort to tell you you get used to it?”

Jahaziel pulled back to look his demon in the eye. “No. I don’t...” He studied him for a moment, sniffling and searching his lower set of eyes. “I don’t believe that’s true.” He pressed a hand to Aziraphale’s faintly aching chest. “Is it?”

_Now_ Aziraphale put the pieces together. He too recalled the moment he’d tried to give Jahaziel comfort that he had nothing more than a life of this constant, dull emptiness and wretchedness. This was all he had to look forward to if he survived the archangel’s assassination. It was the truth. It was the truth for all demons. You could choose to ignore it or give in and become evil, just like he’d told Jahaziel before. But now that they were out of the woods, out of the thick of it, his example was only proving to do more harm than the initial good it was intended to. He smiled sadly, holding Jahaziel’s cheeks for a moment before sliding his hands down to his shoulders. His gaze dropped. “No. I do suppose you’re right,” he admitted in barely more than a breath. “I’ve… I’ve never been able to share this--not with our fellows. I’ve _never_ felt like one of them. I do believe I’m the only one that hasn’t given in.” He looked up at Jahaziel. “It is hard. You do get used to it, like one gets used to living next to a screeching train track, I suppose. And I never said it was easy.” He squeezed his shoulders. “But I daresay we have something now that none of our ilk do.” His smile returned, more earnest as he brushed his thumb over Jahaziel’s chin. “We see the choice. And we can choose to keep being who we are together.”

Jahaziel ate up every word like Aziraphale was giving him water from the fountain of youth. Once the demon stopped talking, Jahaziel breathed a long, ponderous sigh of relief. Knowing Aziraphale understood exactly how he felt and that they’d obviously both follow the same path now, he felt entirely better. But he couldn’t help but smirk. “So is this what it’s like to hear one of your sermons from the other side?”

Aziraphale blinked a moment before shaking his head, _very_ relieved himself to see Jahaziel’s cheekiness returning. “Ha. Certainly not.” He outlined Jahaziel’s lower lip with his thumb. “Because I don’t harbor a modicum of love for them.” His hand returned to Jahaziel’s cheek, just admiring him, glancing to the spot just between his eyes and smiling. “Like I said. I will always be here.”

Jahaziel’s ornery mirth faded into a simple tender smile. “So will I.” He rested his forehead against the demon’s, just taking comfort in their closeness for a long while. Neither of them bothered to really know how long they sat there like that.

“That being said though,” Aziraphale sighed, breaking the warm silence finally. “I think it’d be best if you moved.”

Jahaziel breathed a tired laugh. “ _Yes._ Planning on at least moving the flat twenty feet to the right so I can’t hear the poor sod anymore.”

Aziraphale chuckled, pulling back to pat Jahaziel’s thigh. “How about going elsewhere first though? I don’t think I’ve eaten in days. Fancy that, eh? Me not being able to remember when I last ate.”

“I seem to recall it was some sort of parfait,” Jahaziel mused mildly as he stood from the mattress with Aziraphale. “But I do agree, _yes._ Had enough of awful things for a few months. Years, really. What’s for dinner? The Ritz?”

Aziraphale had always wanted to go there too. But… considering the Ritz was just around the corner from Peter Harrington’s Rare Books, yet another place he’d invested in, he didn’t think he was ready to face the memory of evil he’d created there either. “What would you say to something familiar but.. more exotic?”

Jahaziel raised his brows with a curious hum as he put his glasses back on, following the demon out of the apartment.


	33. Chapter 33

“Discord.” The fallen angel pointed his chopsticks then from himself to Aziraphale. “Deception.”

“Really?” the blonde argued after swallowing his mouthful of takoyaki and patting the corners of his lips with a napkin. “I would sooner name _you_ deception before myself.”

“How do you figure?”

“You managed to fool Heaven for six thousand years.” Aziraphale helped himself to another takoyaki ball from their shared plate. “That’s quite deceptive, my dear.”

Jahaziel considered this through a piece of sushi, chewing thoughtfully. Their date - the first of many that no longer need be defined as clandestine - had brought them back to the now modern fishing village where they’d celebrated their grand escape from the Ainu elders so many centuries ago. It felt all too fitting to return to the scene of their first official crime against Heaven. And just like then, they’d found another quaint little sushi place that served late into the night. “Granted. However.” The redhead shifted in his seat, leaning back against it and catching a piece of seaweed from his teeth with his tongue. He then gestured to himself with a sweeping motion. “Apple.”

Sitting back himself, Aziraphale thought on that for a moment, tapping his chopsticks against his lips. “Discord does mean a lack of harmony. And I would call your relationship with Heaven anything _but_ harmonious. Hm…” More thoughtful frowning. “And I _do_ suppose… It’s deceptive of me to be leading demons somewhat astray… Though I really shouldn’t be known for that, I don’t think.”

“Mm.” He had a point. Jahaziel nodded, now chewing a piece of ginger. “There is some truth to that. Alright, alright. Fine. Patron Reprobate of Deception it is.” With that, the two of them lifted their small sake cups, and clinked them together. Jahaziel seemed to have come to terms with the happenings of the past week rather well, for now. Aziraphale had managed to pick up the pieces the trials and hardships had left the fallen angel in and arrange them in such a way that formed a fully functioning human-shaped creature. What the next few days or weeks held, neither one could tell. But as it stood, things were… decent.

“New Antichrist.” Aziraphale dared to tread where Jahaziel was too nervous to. But the topic needed to be discussed. “What do you make of that?”

The fallen angel wasn’t sure. He knew they still had to thank the _old_ one for repairing his flat and the observatory, but beyond that he hadn’t given it much thought. “When Adam dies. A new one will rise. I assume just like before.”

“Ah, perhaps. Don’t suppose we’ll have luck enough twice to interfere like we did this time.” Aziraphale sighed. “Might make things a bit harder.”

“Who knows.” Jahaziel now pushed around some errant grains of rice on his plate. “Maybe humans will invent a way to live forever.”

“They don’t want that,” the demon commented quietly, sipping his sake. “No one wants to live forever. Certainly not long enough to see the demise of their own kind.”

“Mm,” replied Jahaziel. “Doesn’t mean I’d like to see it either.”

Aziraphale could not help his smile. Nor the warmth or fondness that radiated from it. Everything that had happened, everything they’d been through. And Jahaziel still wanted to protect humanity. It was remarkable, really. Admirable. As if he couldn’t have loved him any more than he did in these moments, he lifted his sake cup again. “To the world,” he offered quietly, that same warmth and fondness bleeding into his words.

Jahaziel lifted his own, tapping it gently against the demon’s once again. “To _their_ world.” His words were equally tender. “And _ours.”_

\----

And so ends the story of two fallen angels. One who didn’t Fall so much as he tripped and tumbled ass over teakettle, and the other who was simply kind enough to grace Hell with his presence.

They saved the world. For now. And that was good enough for them.


End file.
